


to the well of stars and back

by shipwreckinabottle



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Space, Arranged Marriage, Daxamite & Kryptonian, F/M, Prince Mon-El, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:49:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipwreckinabottle/pseuds/shipwreckinabottle
Summary: "He is not the same as us," the man says, "Mon-El is our father's mad dog, set loose from his cage whenever diplomacy fails. The Harbinger of Death, as he is known. I hope you'll do well to tame him, Kara of Krypton."The twelve noble houses of Daxam are at war, and the only solution for the centuries of bloodshed and strife might take the form of an arranged marriage between a bastard prince from Daxam, and a Kryptonian girl from Earth.AU; Arranged marriage.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of an AU storyline. Everything remains the same except Kara has never met Mon-El before. 
> 
> In this story, the noble houses of Daxam are at war. Mon-El is a prince from the House of Gand. 
> 
> There'll be a lot of world / planet building and Daxamite characters, as the story takes place far away from Earth.

They came without warning.  
  
There was a thunderous roar—and a legion of Daxamite warships dropped into Earth’s orbit, their obsidian platings turning the evening skies as black as night.

The billions below held their breaths together in a long collective second of silence, and in the next—the skies tore apart in blinding luminescence, raining down plasma-fire and death.

 

* * *

 

 

The Daxamite male watched from the warship’s observatory deck as their weaponry tore a hole through Earth’s atmosphere, leaving a crater in the vaporized city below. It was a familiar sight; the fate of all refusing fealty to the Holy Empire of Daxam.  
  
The ship lurched forward momentarily, the thrusters recalibrating for descent onto Earth’s surface; the grandly built viewports revealed a world of once green and blue, but now only smoking ruins remained.  
  
The ship landed in a barren crater, the remnants of a once thriving city of millions. There remained nothing but rubble and death.  
  
The Daxamite exited the ship and breathed in the foreign air—and immediately noticed the two figures standing opposite the crater’s impact zone; a man and a woman, in similar outfits of red and blue.  
  
The two strangers stood next to a destroyed Daxamite warship with dozens of fallen Daxamite soldiers lying motionless around the crater’s center. It was a feat most impossible; the planet revolved around a yellow sun – Daxamites were invincible here, no human should have been able to take on an enhanced Daxamite, much less an entire squadron.  
  
_Not human,_ the Daxamite suspected; a most interesting revelation.  
  
He signaled to his ship and half a dozen of his men exited, taking up arms by his side. Then, he stood still and waited for the other two to make the first move.  
  
The female did—the rubble beneath her feet cracking as she exploded into the air, lancing straight across the crater and smashing into the guard beside him. The impact sent the two of them crashing into the structure behind, showering them all with falling debris and dust.  
  
His guards all turned in their direction. The other Daxamite, however, remained still, not even flinching at the female’s attack; it was reckless and impulsive, it spoke volumes of her lack of experience. She wasn’t a threat.  
  
The other man was the one he needed to deal with.  
  
They clashed at the crater’s center, each reverberating blow sending booming shockwaves that shattered the surrounding rubble into dust. The two of them were evenly matched, trading hits and drawing blood, neither seeming to gain the upper-hand, until the female’s cries of pain came from behind.  
  
One of the Daxamite soldiers must have landed a hit. The man looked away, and the second of distraction was all the Daxamite needed. He lanced forward, fist barreling into the man’s unguarded side, catching him in the ribs and shattering bones. The man staggered backwards—and the Daxamite launched into the air, his reared fist shooting forward with enough strength to send the man crashing all the way across the crater.  
  
The Daxamite then landed next to his fallen foe and drew a ceremonial dagger from his side. He pressed it into the man’s neck. “You’ve fought well, I will grant you an honorable deat—“  
  
The female slammed into him from behind, interrupting him mid-speech and sending the two of them crashing into an abandoned building. Rubble rained down as he tried getting up to his feet, just as her fist barreled into the side of his face, sending him back to the ground.  
  
She pivoted forward for another punch, but he caught her attack the second time round, grabbing onto her arm in mid-flight and twisting it to the side, using her own momentum to send her flying through the air. He leapt after her immediately, picking up his fallen weapon, the two of them colliding in midair and crashing back to the ground.  
  
When the dust settled, he had his blade pressed to her neck. “It’s over—“  
  
Someone grabbed onto his shoulder from behind, “—stop.”  
  
The Daxamite swung his blade in a circular arc, not bothering to greet his newest foe—only for the other person to catch his arm in mid-swing, effectively blocking his attack.  
  
“Stop,” the person said again, his voice dispassionate, his grip unwavering. “Mon-El…” the person said slowly, almost like a warning.  
  
The Daxamite stilled at the mention of his name, bloodlust slowly leaving his eyes. His blade retracted to his side. “Kar Gand…” he sounded almost displeased with the other’s arrival. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“An interesting development, Mon-El,” the other Daxamite said as he approached the fallen female. “We seem to have two Kryptonians in our midst.”  
  
“Kryptonians? I thought they were extinct.”  
  
Kar Gand looked at him curiously, “So did I, brother, so did I.”

 

* * *

 

The two Kryptonians were brought before them, forced to kneel in the dirt, their hands bounded behind their backs in kryptonite-powered handcuffs. They were in a makeshift camp, surrounded by seven Daxamites in war-armor and one without.  
  
“Kryptonians! Truly an honor!” The one in robes bowed. “I am Kar Gand of the Noble House of Gand, Spear of the Holy Empire of Daxam.” He motioned to the man standing guard behind him. “I see you’re already acquainted with my brother, Mon-El of Daxam.”  
  
Mon-El stood silent, the mannerisms of an obvious military background.  
  
Neither Kryptonian spoke, so Kar Gand continued, “I’m very interested in learning how the two of you survived the destruction of Krypton. But first – I have to ask about your remaining defenses, especially in getting past that force field around the Northern hemisphere.”  
  
When neither Kryptonian provided an answer, Mon-El stepped forward suddenly, his dagger drawn and slicing straight into the male Kryptonian’s back. The blade glowed green as it tore through flesh and sinew. The Kryptonian fell forward and blood seeped into the ground below.  
  
“Please – stop!” the female Kryptonian screamed. She tried to get up onto her feet, only to be forced back down to her knees by the guards. “I’ll – I’ll tell you everything you want!” she pleaded. “Just stop hurting him – please!”  
  
“N-No, Kara, d-don’t…” the other Kryptonian croaked weakly. “D-Don’t tell them… anything.”

Mon-El twisted the blade, and the Kryptonian screamed in pain, his body convulsing into the muddy ground.  
  
“Well then, Kara of Krypton,” Kar Gand smiled, picking up her name from the other Kryptonian. “Are you ready to talk?”  
  
“I - … I am!” her face was filled with distress. “Please! You’re killing him!”  
  
Kar Gand nodded at Mon-El, who then pulled out the blade, wiping the blood clean across the Kryptonian’s cape before retreating to the back of the tent.  
  
“I thought Kryptonians were extinct,” Kar Gand said. “How are you alive?”  
  
“E-Escape pods,” her voice was shaking.  
  
“Pods that were able to outrun the chain nuclear explosions?”  
  
“Yes… our parents were prepared for that day.”  
  
“What about themselves?” he asked.  
  
“There… wasn’t enough time.”  
  
“The greatest minds of Krypton, all gone in an instance, a pity,” he shrugged. “A miracle you survived, Princess of Krypton.”  
  
She blinked, seemingly caught off guard. “I-… I’m not a princess.”  
  
“But you are,” Kar Gand pointed to the symbol across her chest. “I had my suspicions at first, but now I’m sure. You wear the symbol of the House of El, descendants of Jor-El the First, Supreme commander of the first Kryptonian Hyperspace Fleet. I know my history well, Kara Zor-El of Krypton.”  
  
“Krypton was a democracy… there were no princesses,” she said.  
  
“Yes, but Krypton is no more, and as the House of El was once a ruling noble family, by the Ascension Laws of the Holy Empire of Daxam, it makes you the last princess of Krypton, Kara Zor-El.”  
  
“What is your point, Daxamite?”  
  
“Do you care about this planet, Kara Zor-El?” he asked.  
  
“I do,” she said. “More than anything else.”  
  
“Then I’m correct in assuming you’ll do anything to prevent its destruction?”  
  
“I will,” her tone was firm.  
  
“Then I have a deal for you, Kara of Krypton. One that will ensure the safety of your world.”  
  
Mon-El stepped forward, like he was about to object, but Kar Gand silenced him with a lift of his hand.  
  
“What-… what if I refuse?” there was no mistaking the desperation laced between her words.  
  
“Then I will torture the two of you until I get what is needed to destroy Earth’s remaining defenses,” he said indifferently. “If you die before I get what is needed, then I’ll simply continue with our assault until your shields falter. It will take us a few days more, but the results are all the same. It’s only a delay of the inevitable.”  
  
Her head drooped downwards in defeat. “What do you want?”  
  
“Unionship between our races,” he smiled. “A political marriage between a princess of Krypton and a prince of Daxam. Accept, and I’ll spare this pathetic waste of a planet you call Earth.”

 

* * *

 

The ship left the planet’s atmosphere, the thrusters restabilizing as they entered orbit. The doors to the command bridge slid open with a loud hiss, the nearby guards all tensing in attention as Mon-El marched into the room. He headed straight in Kar Gand’s direction, grabbing the elder Daxamite by the collar and shoving him against the wall behind.  
  
“What is the meaning of this, Kar Gand!?” Mon-El seethed. “We had our orders!”  
  
Mon-El’s grip tightened, but Kar Gand was without the slightest hint of distress. “That was before we found the Kryptonians, my dear brother.”  
  
“Father’s orders are absolute!” Mon-El did not back off. “You choose to defy him… to spare this planet, for a Kryptonian?!”  
  
Kar Gand laughed, “You are too narrow minded, brother.”  
  
“Then explain it to me,” Mon-El snarled, “ _brother_.”  
  
Kar Gand grabbed onto Mon-El’s arm and peeled it off his neck, “Open your eyes, Mon-El! The Holy Throne of Daxam is finally within reach! She is the key!”  
  
“The Kryptonian?!” Mon-El argued. “A princess without a kingdom!?”  
  
“Again with the narrow mindedness, Mon-El. You truly do lack the patience for politics.” Kar Gand sighed, trying to straighten the robes that Mon-El had scrunched in their scuffle. “I’m referring to her bloodline. Krypton may be no more, but Kryptonian blood still runs within her.”  
  
“What good is Kryptonian blood to us?”  
  
“A cause for an uprising,” Kar Gand looked out of the grand viewports as they passed one of the inhabited Daxamite worlds. “Only a queen of noble Kryptonian blood can unite all the outworld Daxamite tribes. With them fighting under our banner, the other houses will crumble, and victory for the Holy Throne shall be all but assured.”  
  
“And why would she help you accomplish any of that?” Mon-El asked.  
  
“To ensure the safety of her world? She has this… unusual attachment to Earth. I believe she’ll do anything to prevent its destruction.”  
  
“What about your betrothment to the Duchess of Bryak? Father spent years negotiating that treaty.”  
  
“Oh, our betrothment shall still proceed as planned. We need the alliance.” Kar Gand turned to Mon-El, his lips curling in a most playful manner. “The unionship is not meant for me, _brother_. It is _you,_ Mon-El, who shall take the last princess of Krypton as wife."

 

* * *

 

Kara counted at least twenty additional guards onboard the Daxamite warship, not including the four that were marching her towards the command bridge, and the six more that were already inside. Three more stood guard at the entrance, their posture impassive and silent.  
  
The doors hissed open and she was shoved forward into the bridge. The room was covered with gigantic monitor screens and grandly constructed viewports; a constellation of stars could be seen in the far distance, caressed by the yellow glow of a nearby sun.  
  
The yellow sun gave her strength, but she knew it wasn’t enough; Daxamite and Kryptonians have a similar physiology, they were equally strong under a yellow sun, and she was still outnumbered at least thirty to one.  
  
They lead her to an observatory deck, and as they proceeded up the steps, she noticed another coming down the same way. She recognized him – the Daxamite who fought and almost killed her cousin, the same one that stuck the Kryptonite dagger into Kal-El’s back.  
  
_Mon-El of Daxam._  
  
Anger surged across her chest, but Kara managed to restrain herself from doing anything reckless. There was nothing she could do for now; not with Earth’s very survival still hanging in the balance.  
  
She looked up as they passed the other—and for a single second, their eyes met—hers in controlled fury, and his completely impassive, features an inscrutable blank.  
  
They marched her up to where Kar Gand was waiting.  
  
She knew Kar Gand and Mon-El were brothers, but the two of them were almost nothing alike. Mon-El was clearly battle-hardened, there was something quiet and intense about him, almost like a strung lion, ready to strike at a second’s notice. Kar Gand was the opposite, his posture relaxed and exaggerated, his body lankier and less tense, not as formidable and with a sticky paleness to his skin. However, he did not exuberate any vulnerability, instead quite the opposite.  
  
Kara suspected he was the more dangerous sibling of the two.  
  
“We’re approaching Daxamlos,” Kar Gand greeted her with a smile. “It’s where the House of Gand settled after the hundred year Daxamite Civil War.”  
  
Kara looked out of the viewports, recognizing the constellations as a familiar one. “We’re at the Well of Stars?” she asked in surprise. “But I thought…”  
  
“Daxamlos is a moon that orbits the edge of the Well’s gravitational pull, close enough to be undetected by our enemies, and far enough to be unaffected by the relative loss of time. It’s where you’ll be staying until the ceremony,” Kar Gand explained. “You… are not going to be trouble, are you?”  
  
“As long as you uphold your deal,” Kara replied. “You leave Earth alone.”  
  
Kar Gand shrugged. “A deal is a deal.”  
  
They fell quiet for a long while, the two of them silently watching the unmoving stars pass them by.  
  
“So…” Kara finally said after the silence passed. “You are the prince of Daxam? I’m not too familiar with your planet’s history.”  
  
“Yes and no. Daxam has been without a ruling house for centuries. There are currently twelve noble houses engaged in bloody war for the Holy Throne. The House of Gand is one of them. I am a prince of Daxam, but only one of many, and only in title. But with your help in securing the Holy Throne, I believe ascension is only a matter of time… and a lot of planning.”  
  
“My help?” Kara sounded visibly confused. “What can our betrothment possibly achieve? Krypton is gone, and there is nothing I can—”  
  
“There is a lot more you can achieve than you think, Kara of Krypton,” Kar Gand smiled. “There is nothing for you to worry about for now, all shall come in time.” He paused, then said. “And no, your betrothal is not to me, but my brother, Mon-El.”  
  
Kara tensed at the mention of that name. “Mon-El... he’s the one who-” she caught herself before accidentally saying something that might offend Kar Gand. “He-… He’s the other Prince of Gand.”  
  
Much to Kara’s surprise, Kar Gand erupted in laughter. “Yes Kara of Krypton, Mon-El is my father’s son – but he’s hardly the…” his voice caught, and something changed in his eyes, a wave of coming malevolence, then he blinked, and the second of malice vanished, like it was never there in the first place, like it was just a figment of her imagination. “I mean… yes, Mon-El is also a prince, but he is… Raosc’Ehra.”  
  
“Raosc’Ehra?” Kara asked; Daxamian was similar to Kryptonian, but their languages have widely differed over the millenniums. “I do not understand.”  
  
“A…--” Kar Gand looked away for a second, like he was searching for a similar word in her vocabulary, “-- bastard.” He shrugged. “A child not born from alliance, but a father’s transgression. He is not the same as us. Mon-El is our father’s mad dog, set loose from his cage whenever diplomacy fails. The _Harbinger of Death_ as he is known.”  
  
Their conversation came to a halt as the ship finally arrived at their destination.  
  
Kar Gand turned towards Kara a final time and said. “I hope you’ll do well to tame him, Kara of Krypton.”   
  
Then he was gone, leaving Kara alone on the observatory deck until the guards returned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the amazing response. Here we are with the second part of the story! 
> 
> Before we start, a few things to take note. 
> 
> Firstly, I changed a little detail from the previous chapter. Instead of landing on the surface, they landed on a space platform. A small change, which you'll soon see why. 
> 
> Daxam = home planet of Daxamites.  
> Daxamlos = the moon which the House of Gand resides.  
> Coluans = an alien race with advanced technology and superior intelligence. Similar to Indigo / Brainiac-8 from season 1.  
> Branx = an alien race with behemoth-like warriors, mostly working as arms-for-hire.  
> Well of Stars = an area of clustered stars, their close proximity creating a powerful pull of gravity that slows down time in that area.  
> Nth-Metal = a rare metal with gravity negating properties.  
> Starlarium = similar to a solarium, except for the viewing of stars. 
> 
> Other things such as the twelve houses of Daxam, their politics, their wars, I won't reveal in an info dump. It's no fun that way. You'll have to read more to find out more :)

The spaceport was an orbiting platform hidden within the magnetic storms brewing across the moon’s atmosphere. Kara was led from the ship to another docking bay, where she was told an arriving shuttle would soon arrive to ferry her down to the moon’s surface.  
  
As Kara stood there waiting, she noticed the arrival of a most unusual pair; a young Coluan female, no older than her young teens, walking alongside a mountainous Branx, with protruding fangs like sharpened blades.  
  
The green-skinned female bowed at their approach. “Your Highness,” she said, while nudging the Branx, who then bowed as well, albeit more awkwardly than his Coluan companion.  
  
Kara took a long look around the hangar before turning back to the two strangers. “Are you…” she whispered, “referring to me…?”  
  
“Yes, Your Highness,” said the girl. “My name is Lyra-814, a _twelfth-level_ A.I intellect from Colu. Next to me is X’Garr, a Branx from the planet Emana Branx. We’ve been assigned to assist with your acclimatization to Daxamite culture.”  
  
The bigger alien grunted at the mention of his name.  
  
Lyra continued, “As a _twelfth-level_ intellect, I’m fully equipped to fulfill all of your intellectual needs, alongside any questions you may have. Think of me as your personal tour guide.” She tilted her head towards X’Garr. “As you may have noticed, Daxamlos does not orbit a yellow sun, so while in the absence of your powers, X’Garr here shall function as your temporary bodyguard.”  
  
The alien grunted again at the mention of his name.  
  
Kara – momentarily lost for words – stared blankly at the two in front of her, until realizing they were still in mid-bow. “Please, you don’t have to bow,” she said. “And please, just Kara will do.”  
  
Lyra quickly shook her head in disagreement. “Your Highness, that would be extremely inappropriate.”  
  
X’Garr grunted in agreement.  
  
“I insist,” Kara said, taking Lyra’s hands in hers. “Nice to meet you, Lyra.” Then she turned to the massive alien beside her, who stood almost three heads taller, requiring Kara to look upwards in order to catch his eyes. “And… erm… you too, X’Garr.”  
  
He grunted again in acknowledgement.  
  
The circular orbs on Lyra’s cranium turned an immediate shade of red. She looked down at her hands, her programming unable to compute Kara’s current action. “I – I’m…” she stuttered weakly, before quickly changing the subject. “Would you like to know more about Daxamlos?”  
  
Kara nodded, deciding it was more significant than trying to get the two to stop calling her _Your Highness._  
  
Lyra’s cranial orbs flashed a brighter shade of red; the action was similar to googling for information back on Earth, except in a Coluan A.I.’s case, they had the entire known universe’s information already available in their cranial databanks.  
  
“Daxamlos is an ellipsoidal moon; the third largest in the Alliestunal system. It orbits the gravitational pull of the Well of Stars, each day / night rotation lasting twenty-seven Earth hours. It has a diameter 23% larger than Earth’s moon and 52% more massive. The atmospheric content is rich in nitrogen, along with traces of methane, argon, helium and cyanogen.”  
  
Lyra then pointed to a nearby pillar, where the familiar crest of House Gand was etched into; a reversed arch with Daxamian lettering down its center. “Daxamlos was uninhabited until the discovery of its Nth-metal lake by Aoer Gand the Third, who used the harvest metal to overthrow the ruling House of Felthiam, overtaking their assets and forming the House of Gand. The Gand compound covers 32% of the moon’s surface, spanning five-point-nine million square miles.”  
  
The shuttle arrived just as Lyra finished.  
  
A pilot exited and bowed before Kara. “Your Highness, I will take you to the Gand Estate.”  
  
Before Kara could say anything else, the two guards behind her ushered her into the shuttle. Lyra and X’Garr followed in afterwards, the latter requiring a few additional seconds to fit himself through the smaller entrance.  
  
Kara took the window seat as the shuttle left the space station and started its descent onto the moon’s surface. The rumbling magnetic storms soon gave way to grey and barren lands, lifeless as far as Kara’s eyes could see. The shuttle passed by dozens of colossal structures, all industrial in design, harvesting the precious minerals beneath the moon’s surface.  
  
Kara knew about Nth-metal’s gravity negating properties; it was an extremely rare transuranic iron, said to be found only in the most minute amounts in the deepest of Thanagarian mines. There was no record of a depository ever being found off-world, much less on a Daxamite moon.  
  
It wasn’t long before the shuttle cleared the industrial structures and came upon a massive domelike structure, the largest Kara had ever seen. It stretched hundreds of miles and – as Lyra explained – was filled with a breathable atmosphere, where most of the moon’s inhabitants lived.  
  
The shuttle docked and they entered into a multitude of hallways and corridors, each seemed to lead endlessly into the horizons. Kara followed her two guides as they proceeded deeper into the dome, passing by dozens of empty hallways, and other than the occasional hum of a passing drone, there was no other living soul in sight.   
  
Their journey took them another twenty minutes before arriving at a guarded door, with half a dozen Daxamite soldiers standing at attention, their weapons poised at the ready. Above the doorway etched the crest of House Gand.  
  
Lyra approached the doorway, not at all intimidated by the Daxamite soldiers, and placed her hand onto the door’s scanner. The scanner beeped and the light turned from red to green, and the sound of a disengaging lock came from behind the doorway.  
  
Kara stepped through the doorway, and came upon a most incredible sight. She was standing at the edge of a natural canyon, the sharp drop below leading to a lake of jagged rocks and unmoving silver. In the canyon’s center, rose a colossal structure that spiraled high into the unseen heavens, connected by a bridge to the dome behind.  
  
The three of them crossed the bridge and arrived at the structure’s entrance. There were no guards here, but at least three additional layers of security, which Lyra unlocked with a scan of her palm, her eyes, and then her orbs.  
  
A doorway emerged from the structure’s surface, leading to an elevator with only a single button.  
  
The three of them got in.  
  
It was a quiet journey to the top, and when they finally arrived on the correct floor, the view was again nothing short of spectacular. It was like they had left the moon behind and stepped into a completely different world. Whereas Kara’s journey had taken her through a rather inconspicuous environment, with the buildings all industrial in design and operated by only machineries and drones, the interior of this tower was anything but utilitarian.  
  
Instead, it was furnished like an elegant palace, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the unending ceilings above, held up by ostentatiously detailed pillars, the walls swathed in layers of dazzling colors, like the rose windows of a cathedral, bathing the hallways in hues of radiant warmth.  
  
They headed up a set of double-staircases, and Kara marveled at the details and colors around her, some in shades she’d never seen before, others her brain couldn’t even comprehend, but in swirling wisps of incredulity, the colors changing with each blink of her eye.  
  
They passed by grandiose hallways and gilded paintings of art; and just like the dome before, there wasn’t a single living soul in sight, but the place was pristine and well maintained, without blemish nor even a single speck of dust.  
  
They eventually stopped by a locked room.  
  
“Your Highness,” Lyra bowed. “Your room is already fully synced to your biometrics.”  
  
Kara was still uncomfortable with being addressed in such a way, but seeing how adamant Lyra was, she decided not to argue with it for now. She pressed her palm against the lockpad, which beeped after a quick second. The doors slid open, revealing a spacious living space; comfortable and elegant, like the suite of a high-tech alien hotel, but without even a hint of personal touch.  
  
Lyra pointed to a nearby intercom. “For whenever you need us. We’re always at your service.”  
  
Lyra bowed a final time, the doors closing behind her, and suddenly, Kara was left alone for the first time since her surrender back on Earth. It was a lot quieter than she’d expected, and for the longest time she stood there, silently fighting the emerging waves of lassitude threatening her towards their unseen depths. It was a battle she quickly lost. She fell to the ground, a powerful shudder ripping through her.  
  
Now that she was finally alone, all pretense of coping, of appearing strong, completely evaporated, leaving her vulnerable and fully exposed to the enormity of her situation. It crashed against her like a tidal wave, and along with all of her suppressed emotions, overcame her completely. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and in the minutes to come, exhaustion quickly came and took her away.

 

* * *

  
_Bzzt… Bzzt…_  
  
Kara woke to the sounds of a buzzing intercom, finding herself in a curled up position by the side of an unfamiliar room. She laid there for the longest time, staring blankly at the ceiling, until the events of the previous day all came rushing back.  
  
She shifted into an upright position, knuckles pressed into her temple; she felt completely drained, mentally and physically, a settling exhaustion she couldn’t overcome, a sense of weariness that crept even into her bones. It was an unfamiliar sensation, like waking into a hangover so jarring and disorientating she couldn’t tell the ceiling from the floor.  
  
The intercom buzzed again, prompting her up onto her feet and in the direction of the doorway. There wasn’t a visible day/night cycle on this moon, but the dimmer surroundings indicated that she’d slept till the later evening.  
  
She headed over to the lockpad and fumbled with the controls before managing to unlock the door.  
  
Lyra stood outside. “Your Highness, your presence is requested at dinner.” She stepped into the room. “I’m here to help with your preparations.”  
  
“Preparations?” Kara asked.  
  
Lyra headed to a nearby closet, revealing an abundance of clothing already packed inside. “You’re not dressed for the occasion.”  
  
“What’s wrong with my clothing?” Kara asked – still dressed in her Supergirl outfit.  
  
“It’s not exactly… customary.” Lyra took out a revealing red dress with minimal fabric, holding it up in front of Kara before shaking her head and tossing it aside. “That won’t do at all.”  
  
Temporarily leaving Lyra to her own devices, Kara left the bedroom and entered the bathroom; the room was spacious, the walls and floors covered in marbled tiles; there was a grand shower by the side; and with plenty of clean white towels hanging neatly on a bedside rack, next to many bottles of unlabeled soap.  
  
“Hey Lyra,” Kara called out. “Do you mind if I take a shower first?”  
  
“Not at all, Your Highness,” came the reply.  
  
Kara undid her clothing carefully, slipping out of her boots before folding her cape into a neat stack on the nearby sink. Then she stepped into the shower, wondering where the temperature controls were when a steady stream of water rained suddenly from the shower-head, pattering like gentle rainwater onto the marbled floor.  
  
The temperature was perfect, reminding Kara what Lyra said about the room being synced to her biometrics. She sighed at the touch of water upon her skin; it felt liberating, cleansing away the dirt and her worries. She stood underneath the stream of water for a few long minutes, relishing the feel of water running down her torso, her eyes closing as she tilted her face towards the spray, letting it thrum lightly against her tired eyelids.

When Kara exited the bathroom later, Lyra had already left, but not before leaving a mixture of clothing on the bed. The dress caught her eye first; long sleeved and in a shade of blue – the design simple, demure but pretty, the patterns and synthetic-weaving similar to those of Kryptonian fashion. The fabric felt familiar underneath her fingertips, synthesized from a specific strain of cotton found only on Krypton. It reminded Kara of something her mother would wear, and the memory brought a smile to her lips.  
  
She clutched the dress tightly to her chest, ferociously holding onto those memories.  
  
When she finally changed into the outfit and exited her room, Lyra and X’Garr were already waiting outside. “They await you at the _Room of Stars_ ,” Lyra said.  
  
“Room of Stars?” Kara asked.  
  
“Yes, the _Room of Stars_ is a starlarium located in the top floor of Gand Tower, similar to solariums found on Earth. As the moon is prone to heavy magnetic storms due to the strong gravitational pull of the Well of Stars, there is no chance to see the passing stars from the moon’s surface. However, because of the building’s massive height, there is a single floor which stands just above the storm’s surface, granting its occupants full view of the Well of Stars, which I’ve heard is beyond magnificent, thus the aptly named – _Room of Stars._ ”  
  
“Heard?” Kara asked, wondering about her choice of words.  
  
Lyra nodded, “Only those of noble blood are allowed into the _Room of Stars_. That disqualifies me and X’Garr.”  
  
Her alien companion grunted in agreement.  
  
Their elevator ride to the top floor took at least fifteen minutes, the transparent viewports allowing Kara to see the moon’s surface slowly disappearing underneath the massive storm clouds, then finally passing by and into the black vastness of space.  
  
When they arrived on the top floor, there was only a single hallway which led to a pair of massive doors. Kara started in the direction of the doors, until realizing that Lyra and X’Garr remained near the elevator’s entrance.  
  
“This is as far as we’re allowed to go,” Lyra said. “We’ll wait for your return, Your Highness.”

With only a single path left available to her, Kara proceeded forward, coming to a stop in front of the heavyset doors. There were gigantic gearings keeping the door shut, and without either a doorknob or lockpad, Kara was left wondering if she was supposed to knock, until a loud rumble came from behind the doorway. Kara took a step back as the gears started to whirl, the doors sliding apart and granting her entry into the _Room of Stars_.  
  
The room was domelike in structure, made completely of transparent shielding, granting the occupants a full view of the outside space, where millions of visible stars shone like scattered embers, setting the room alight in warm luminescence. There were no artificial lightings in this room, the illumination granted solely from the nearby Well of Stars.  
  
There was a long dining table at the center of the room, one that could hold dozens in the event of a grand feast. But there sat only four this day; Kar Gand and Mon-El, alongside two others whom Kara was not yet acquainted.  
  
The man seated beside Kar Gand was at least a whole head taller than the rest of them, his body fully rippling with muscles, and when he turned in Kara’s direction, she saw a deep scar running down the side of his face, through a sunken eye as grey as it was lifeless.  
  
An older man sat at the table’s end, his hair white from age, but his posture nothing less than impressive. He followed Kara’s every step with an unnerving gaze, eyes that were as imposing as they were fearsome. Kara noticed he wore Daxam’s crest of royalty around his neck.

The presence of the four men sent an immediate surge of adrenaline through Kara’s veins, causing the hairs at the back of her neck to stand. It was like stepping into a lion’s den.

 

* * *

 

 

Kar Gand stood first. “Kara Zor-El,” he welcomed her with exaggerated outstretched arms, like he would in the presence of a returning family member, before gesturing to an empty seat beside Mon-El. “The last princess of Krypton!” the prince was visibly gleeful, like he was parading a rare find to the rest of his family.  
  
Kara took her seat beside the younger prince, her fists clenched together underneath the table, her posture completely straight, eyes forward; she felt Mon-El’s gaze burning into her side, but she refused his eyes.  
  
Kar Gand laughed at the uncomfortable silence that followed. “Where are my manners?! Let me introduce you to my family!” He put his hands around the large humanoid beside him. “This is my brother, Zorgnith Gand, Lord Commander of Gand’s imperial might. And at the end of the table, seats our dear father, Kell Gand the Second, Imperial Spear of the Holy Empire of Daxam.”  
  
“N-Nice to meet you all,” Kara could not think of anything else to say.  
  
Zorgnith sneered at her. “You’re a Kryptonian.” His smile was anything but friendly. “I’ve killed my fair share of Kryptonians, but only halfblooded descendants, none quite as powerful as a pureblood like yourself.” He picked up his dining knife, trailing up its edge with his tongue. “I’ve never killed a pureblooded Kryptonian, much less… royalty.”  
  
“Zorgnith…” Mon-El spoke, his brother’s name a clear warning.  
  
Zorgnith’s smile grew even wider, refusing to back down, his intentions clear. “Brother… not even done with the ceremony, and you’re already protecting the poor little Kryptonian girl?”  
  
Mon-El did not reply, but Kara could feel the growing tension in the air, as thick as the outside storm; it was clear that the two of them were brothers only in blood. She wasn’t expecting Mon-El to speak for her, but he was the last person she’d wanted to. She was more than capable of handling herself.  
  
But before she could get a word out, Zorgnith laughed, “Brother, have you forgotten what the Kryptonians did to Daxalsos?”  
  
Mon-El tensed beside her.  
  
Zorgnith’s voice suddenly dripped with venom, “Your whore of a mother certainly did not.”  
  
The room fell into immediate silence, the smile gone even from Kar Gand’s face—and in the next, Mon-El exploded to his feet, blade drawn from his side. Zorgnith mirrored his movements, weaponless, more than delighted to engage Mon-El with only his bare fists.  
  
“Enough.”  
  
The authority in Kell Gand’s voice was absolute.  
  
The two brothers froze, and the tension evaporated as they quietly returned to their seats.  
  
“Zorgnith, you will treat our guest with respect.” There was a short pause. “Kryptonian or not.”  
  
“Yes, Father,” the prince replied like an obedient child, his sudden change in attitude inapposite of his size and stature.  
  
The room fell quiet as service drones entered the room with covered plates, placing them down in front of each seated occupant. The drones lifted the covers before leaving, unveiling to Kara a most unexpected meal – a plate of pot stickers, the skin cooked to a delicious softness; a hint of brown at the bottom, and a variety of different sauces to choose from. It looked flawless, almost like a picture, the aroma mouth-watering.  
  
Kara blinked once, then twice, still not believing the sight. It had been a full day since her last meal back on Earth, and while her hunger had been dwarfed by other more pressing matters, her stomach certainly wasn’t agreeing. It took all she could to prevent a most unappealing rumble.  
  
She looked around the table and noticed different slices of meat on everyone else’s plates, each meal seeming to have been prepared specifically for the person’s palate. Seeing how everyone else had already started with their food, Kara dug into hers as well.  
  
It felt absurd using proper utensils to eat a pot sticker, but Kara was sure the three of them wouldn’t appreciate seeing her use her hands. So she picked up the provided knife and sliced the pot sticker into half before dipping it into the sauce and taking a small bite.  
  
The taste was amazing; the skin was crunchy and soft, the meat tender and spiced to utter perfection. It melted in her mouth, elevating her taste buds to heights of which she’d never imagined possible.  
  
All that from a single pot sticker.  
  
She finished her plate quicker than the rest, leaving her sitting there awkwardly, waiting for whatever else came next. It gave her plenty of time to contemplate her hosts, but also the undeniable scenery; she could see hundreds of thousands of stars where she sat, like tiny lights strung up across the dark curtain of space, their coalescing illumination bringing light to the tiny starlarium.  
  
As Kara’s gaze drifted, she found herself looking at the person beside her – the prince to whom she was betrothed. Mon-El ate quietly, his features as inscrutable as before, no trace left of his previous outburst. He said nothing, and if he’d noticed her gaze, there came no acknowledgement.  
  
When Kara realized how long she was staring, she quickly turned away, her eyes falling onto the other two in front of her. Kar Gand, whom she’d already met before, and Zorgnith – whom she thought of as nothing more than a barbarian.  
  
The blood of Gand ran through the three brothers, but they were almost nothing alike. Kara knew that the two of them were offsprings of political marriages, princes that were born from Gand alliances.  
  
Except Mon-El. He was something different, but she knew almost nothing about him.  
  
Lastly, there was Kell Gand, the Imperial Spear of House Gand. Kara’s knowledge of Daxam’s history came only from what she’d learned on Krypton all those years ago, and she knew plenty of their civil war; a bloody conflict which lasted centuries since the fall of the previous monarch. She’d thought that the war had concluded during her time trapped in the Phantom Zone, but from what she’d learned from Kar Gand during their flight over, it seemed to be far from a peaceful conclusion of any kind.  
  
If Kell Gand won the war, united the twelve houses of Daxam and ascended to Supreme Ruler, he would become the strongest, and most dangerous person in the whole known galaxy. It was a terrifying thought.  
  
When the meal was finally over, Kar Gand and Zorgnith left the room, leaving only the three of them behind. Kell Gand stood at the side of the room, eyes to the outside stars, his features softening in their reaching glow, almost like the welcoming of a long forgotten memory.  
  
“I knew your father once, Kara Zor-El,” he said.  
  
“You did?” Kara asked, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.  
  
“I met him when I was still an emissary for the Empire of Daxam, sent to Krypton for peace relations. He was a young scientist then, as smart as he was stubborn.”  
  
_A young scientist_. Kara couldn’t remember her father without that greying head of his. “That must’ve been… a long time ago.”  
  
“More than a lifetime,” Kell Gand said, and Kara suddenly realized he was a lot older than he seemed.  
  
He turned to her. “The House of El was a hospitable family. I hope you’ll find your stay on Daxamlos equally comfortable, Kara Zor-El.”  
  
Kell Gand then turned to his son, who still stood by the starlarium’s entrance. “Mon-El shall accompany you back to your quarters. You are not our prisoner, but a guest. If there is anything else, don’t be afraid to ask."

 

* * *

 

The elevator ride down was the longest Kara had ever taken.  
  
The elevator also felt a lot smaller than she remembered, with Mon-El and Lyra standing beside her, and X’Garr hunched uncomfortably behind them.  
  
Kara wasn’t the sort of person to hold a grudge, but she still couldn’t forget the image of Mon-El standing over Kal-El, a kryptonite dagger in her cousin’s back.  
  
Ka-El had survived the encounter – getting him proper medical attention was part of Kara’s deal with Kar Gand, but it didn’t meant she forgave any of them. Far from it.  
  
But as much as she hated the Daxamites, she still wanted them to have an amicable relationship of sorts, especially because of the political marriage she was entering. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to say a single thing to Mon-El. Not a single one of them spoke during the long descent back down. It was a familiar silence.  
  
And there was also the other issue.  
  
Something Zorgnith had said that made sense of Mon-El’s clear dislike of her.

 _Have you forgotten what the Kryptonians did to Daxalsos?_  
  
She was unfamiliar with the mentioned planet. But there must be a reason for his quiet animosity.  
  
The silence was deafening, and when they finally arrived at Kara’s room, Mon-El did not follow her in.  
  
“Princess,” he said, almost like an acknowledging farewell.  
  
She turned around, “I’m not—”  
  
“—a princess…” she said quietly, to no one more than herself.  
  
He’d already left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter delves more into the surrounding areas of Daxamlos, also the men of Gand and her two newest guides, along a little bit of Mon-El's history to keep you guessing. 
> 
> The next chapter shall start more character development between our two main characters. 
> 
> Also, I definitely feel like Kara's the sort of person that'll try to tell everyone who refers to her as "Your Highness" that she isn't one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late update. It's been a busy week with Christmas, New Year and all.

There had been no further contact from the men of Gand since the night they had dinner. Kara was left mostly to herself for the following two days, and without any further instructions, there’d been nothing else for her to do but wait.  
  
Lyra had offered to give her a tour of the lower levels, and they were now on their way over to the central elevators.  
  
"The marriage will take place in a month's time, when Aorhs, Ioehs, and Yorhs, the three suns of Daxam are in perfect alignment,” Lyra explained. “It’s customary in Daxamite culture for such events.”  
  
Kara was still unsure of the proceedings. “What will the wedding be like?” she asked.  
  
“Your Highness and the Prince will travel to Daxam and register your unionship at the Hall of Coalescence.”  
  
“What about the wedding itself?”  
  
“The high priest will conduct the wedding at the venue. It’s a short procedure. Shouldn’t take longer than a few minutes.”  
  
The simplicity of it was surprising. “That’s it?”  
  
Lyra nodded. “What else were you expecting, Your Highness?”  
  
“I just thought there’d be a lot more to a Daxamite wedding than a simple marriage registration,” Kara admitted. “It sounds more like a task than a ceremony.”  
  
“A prestigious task, Your Highness,” said Lyra. “There is nothing more binding and absolute on Daxam than a recognized unionship. Often dictated during a child’s birth, they’re irrevocable and considered an honor. Many wars have been averted with tactically planned unionships.”  
  
Kara noticed similar roots between Daxamite culture and older Kryptonian traditions. Arranged marriage was common on Krypton, but not with the same reasons as Daxam. Kryptonian law forbade divorce, and so to prevent treason, a compatibility machine was constructed to preapprove marriages, often leading to younger Kryptonians finding their lifelong mates through the compatibility algorithms.  
  
Kara never liked the idea of finding her mate through a compatibility algorithm; perhaps it was because of her different upbringing on Earth, but she’d always believed in actually _falling_ in love. Such a traditional way wasn’t ideal by her Kryptonian standards, but she knew it was what she would have wanted.  
  
_Before getting betrothed to a Daxamite anyway._  
  
“It feels like you’re treating marriage as though it's a tool,” she said.  
  
“Is that not the same on Earth?” Lyra asked.  
  
Kara thought for a while before answering. “I guess arranged marriages were somewhat more common in the past? But not so much nowadays. People tend to exercise free will and find their own partners instead. Weddings are hardly considered tasks, but more like ceremonies, with the bride's and groom’s loved ones all in attendance. I think… the main difference is that we try to marry for love and not necessity.”  
  
“Love?” Lyra sounded surprised. “Your unionships are forged on a concept of an emotion?”  
  
“You could say that.”  
  
“I do not compute. Alliances forged by unionships are binding. Emotions are not.”  
  
“You’re right. People do fall out of love, too,” Kara tried to explain. “Love is a complicated thing. I don’t think anyone truly understands love. It can come and it can go at the most unexpected times, but when it does happen, it’s the most magical, and most beautiful thing.”  
   
Lyra’s cranial orbs flashed red. “Love is a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes, ranging from interpersonal affection to pleasure; there is a biological basis to love, and there are many references to—”  
  
Kara smiled, “Lyra, that’s not what I meant.”  
  
Lyra pursed her lips together. “Love is a weird concept.”

 

* * *

  
  
The elevator dinged as they reached their destination: the cultural museum, a grand hall filled with hundreds of holographic images and texts of Daxamite history, and dozens of artifacts of Daxamite origin.  
  
Kara spent the next few hours exploring the hall and learning about Daxamite history, eventually coming across a gigantic holographic image of a red planet; the hologram stood at least twice her size, spanning from the ground up.

The planet looked familiar, but she counted twelve dark lines that ran across the planet’s surface that weren’t there the last time she saw an image of Daxam. “Is that Daxam?” Kara asked. “What are those black lines?”  
  
“Yes. Those are the Twelve Great Walls of the Twelve Houses,” Lyra explained. “They divide the lands of Daxam equally between the twelve noble houses after the signing of the temporary ceasefire agreement, putting a halt to the hundred-and-seventeen years of civil strife.”  
  
“That must be during…”  
  
“Yes, Your Highness. It was during your time in the Phantom Zone. The treaty was signed twenty-four years ago to be exact.”  
  
“How did you know about…”  
  
“We have an extensive database. Your life before and during Earth is well-documented. I know everything there is to know about you.”  
  
Kara wasn’t sure to be impressed or terrified. She knew that Lyra meant her no harm, but there was still something universally unnerving about a sentient A.I. saying ‘ _I know everything there is to know about you_.’  
  
Suddenly, that gave Kara an idea.  
  
“Lyra,” she said. “Tell me about Daxalsos.”  
  
Lyra’s cranial orbs flashed red. “Daxalsos: a dwarf planet in the Redanian Belt, formed primarily of ice and rock; its surface composed of more than ninety-nine percent nitrogen ice, with traces of methane and carbon monoxide. Formerly under the control of the Holy Empire of Daxam.”  
  
“Formerly?” Kara asked.  
  
“Daxalsos’s core went supernova twenty-two years ago, resulting in the planet’s complete destruction. There were no survivors.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“An accident, I presume. There is nothing in the reports indicating otherwise.”  
  
Kara thought for a second. “Any Kryptonian involvement?”  
  
“Not in any of the official records.”  
  
Kara fell quiet. _An accident._ It wasn’t what Zorgnith had implied; he had accused her people of being responsible. There was also the comment he made about Mon-El’s mother. _Was she on Daxalsos when it happened?_ She knew there must be a reason why they blamed the Kryptonians, but if Lyra couldn’t get her the answer, she didn’t know how she could either.  
  
“What about Mon-El?” she asked.  
  
Lyra’s orbs flashed red again. “Mon-El: Lord General of Gand’s Imperial Might, third in succession to the House of Gand. He’s—”  
  
Kara shook her head. “No, I mean, was he on Daxalsos before it happened? Or a relative of his?”  
  
“Not that I know of.”  
  
Kara frowned. It was obvious from Mon-El’s exchange with Zorgnith that a great deal of his resentment for her people came from the events of Daxalsos. But it seemed that other than a direct confrontation with either Zorgnith or Mon-El himself, there was no other way for her to find out _why_?

 

* * *

  
  
Lyra brought Kara to the messaging station next; a small room with half a dozen private cubicles, each containing a single chair and screen.  
  
“Each message takes around a month’s time,” Lyra said when explaining the procedures.  
  
“A month!?” Kara couldn’t believe it. “A single message takes a full month!?”  
  
Lyra nodded. “Daxamlos is located fifty-two thousand lightyears from Earth. Your journey over took less than a day because our ships are equipped with state-of-the-art Daxamite slipstream drives. Messages on the other hand, are bounced off messaging relays located across the galaxy. Once sent, it’ll take an estimate of two weeks before Earth’s relay station receives your message. Then depending on their rate of response, another two weeks for us to receive the reply.”  
  
Kara sighed. “A month…” It was a depressing thought. She couldn’t imagine waiting a full month to hear from her friends. After all that had happened, she really needed someone to talk to, someone like Alex; even just hearing her older sister’s voice would be okay. To think she needed to wait an entire month.  
  
It was disheartening.  
  
“Your Highness, do you need some time alone?” Lyra asked, interrupting Kara from her thoughts. “To record your messages in private?”  
  
“I’d like that.”  
  
Lyra nodded and left the room.  
  
Kara sat down in one of the cubicles, opened up a blank message and pressed record. The light above the station started to blink, indicating that it was in record-mode. She stared blankly at the screen for a few long seconds, then cancelling the video and starting over.  
  
She couldn’t find the correct words the second time either, which resulted in another restart, then another, then another.  
  
It took her five tries.  
  
_  
Hi… umm, Alex._  
  
 _So… I’m on Daxamlos. It’s a moon fifty-two thousand lightyears from Earth._  
  
_I… think… by now, Clark should’ve already filled you guys in on my deal with the Daxamites._  
  
_I know you well enough to guess your reaction. You probably hate the idea, and you’re probably angry with me for going along with it. But I didn’t have a choice. I had to do it._  
  
_I hope you understand, and that all of you are safe._  
  
_I worry about you guys all the time. I…_  
  
_I don’t know what I’m supposed to do Alex. I feel so alone here._  
  
_Write back to me soon, please? I miss you so much._

  
Kara closed the message with a heavy sigh. There was so much more she’d wanted to say, but she knew that if she’d tried continuing the message, there’d be no stopping her from bursting completely into tears. And the last thing Kara wanted was for Alex to see her in tears, because if she did, then there’d be no stopping Alex from doing all she could to bring her home, even if it meant waging a one-woman war on all of Daxam and getting herself killed along the way.  
  
Kara took another deep breath, managing to compose herself and press send. Then she recorded a few more for the rest of her friends. Another dozen messages later, it felt like a heavy weight was lifted suddenly off her chest. She felt a lot better; it might only be a computer screen, but it was almost like talking to each of her friends as well.  
  
It was going to be a long wait, but she would definitely survive.

_It’s just a month._

 

* * *

  
  
Kara exited the room, heavy with her own thoughts, not paying attention to her surroundings and walking straight into another person’s path. She bumped into the stranger, sending the two of them stumbling forward. She immediately started to apologize. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t—”

Kara’s breath caught. A familiar face. _Mon-El_.  
  
Mon-El’s eyes narrowed, glaring down at Kara like she was a speck of dust that shouldn’t have been in his way. “Watch where you’re going,” he said in an unamused manner, clearly displeased by her presence. Then without another word, he turned away and continued down the hallway, leaving Kara behind as if she was only a stranger he’d just bumped into on the street.  
  
Kara watched Mon-El leave, her fists clenched shut; she was practically seething in anger. She understood their mutual dislike of one another, but she couldn’t stand his nonchalant manner, his disinterest in everything that had to do with the two of them. Mon-El acted like the betrothment was all her fault, while the truth was that she had nothing less of a choice. So she gritted her teeth and marched over in his direction, catching up to him and yanking the back of his robes.

The fabric stretched and Mon-El was caught in mid-stride, his body arching backwards before managing to regain his balance. He turned to her with a scowl. “What?”  
  
“I want to talk,” Kara huffed, fiercely meeting Mon-El’s annoyed glare and refusing to falter. It was the first time they held eye contact for more than a few seconds and she immediately noticed how blue his eyes were – a Daxamite trait, same with all his brothers.  
  
“What about?” Mon-El said, his tone condescending, treating her like she wasn’t worthy of his time, like she was nothing more than a servant he’d want to _dismiss_.  
  
“About us,” Kara said, trying best to keep herself calm. “About _our_ betrothment.”  
  
“Not interested,” Mon-El said, roughly yanking the fabric back and continuing on his way, and for the second time, Kara was left there watching him leave.  
  
But she wasn’t about to give up. Kara chased after Mon-El again, following him all the way to his destination: an unmarked room. She stood outside for the longest time, contemplating whether she should follow him in, until deciding to do so.  
  
The area was a training room, similar to one used back at DEO headquarters, but better equipped with weapons and tools of all kinds hanging on the walls.  
  
Kara found Mon-El at the center of the room, facing away from her, upside down and doing handstand pushups.  
  
She watched him do twenty, then another twenty, then another before he hopped back up onto his feet. He started to shadowbox with his eyes closed, a quiet intensity on his face, fighting an opponent only he could see.  
  
It went on for another five minutes, and when Mon-El was finally done, he sat down onto the edge of the training mat, a towel wrapped across his back. “I said I’m not interested.”  
  
Kara glanced at him, then without speaking, rolled up her sleeves and stepped onto the mat.

 

* * *

  
  
It took Mon-El a full second to grasp Kara’s intentions.  
  
“No,” he said. Then again, more firmly, “No.”  
  
There was no way he was going to—  
  
“Are you scared?”  
  
His lips twitched.

She was taunting him. He knew better than to give in to such petty insults, but—  
  
“You afraid of getting beaten by a girl in a dress?”  
  
“I’m not—”  
  
It wasn’t easy to speak and dodge at the same time.  
  
Mon-El ducked backwards as Kara swung forward, his instincts taking over, barely managing to evade her nearing fist.  
  
It was close, _too close._

Kara stepped to his right, then pivoted backwards. He lifted his arm in response, meeting her next blow in mid-swing, blocking her attack then shoving forward, sending her off-balance and tumbling her down onto the mat.  
  
She got up immediately, not fazed, and swung at him again.  
  
Mon-El was better prepared the second time around. He anticipated Kara’s attack, sidestepping her and tripping her down to the mat at once.  
  
She was trying to beat him with brute force, she lacked technique. “You fight clumsily,” he said. “There is no yellow sun here.”  
  
She ignored him and swung again. He dodged with ease, using her own momentum to trip her, stepping forward once she was down and locked her arm to her back, knees to her spine.  
  
She started to squirm, but couldn’t get out.  
  
If he wanted to, he could break her arm with ease.  
  
“Submit,” he growled.  
  
“Never.”  
  
He pressed even harder, and all she did was grit her teeth in return, still unwilling to relent.  
  
Her persistency annoyed him. Like an insect that wouldn’t die.  
  
He released her.  
  
She got back up onto her feet, slower this time, but with the same fire in her eyes.  
  
It was infuriating.  
  
She charged—and without thinking, he swept forward and struck her legs out from under her.  
  
She crashed down to the mat, clutching her ankle, face grimacing in pain.  
  
He paused, realizing he must have used too much strength. It wasn’t intentional. He crouched down beside her, wanting to inspect the damage, when she suddenly spun forward, her other leg coiling around him and pulling him forward—straight into the forward path of her elbow.  
  
The blow sent him reeling backwards, momentarily stunning him.  
  
_She tricked him_.  
  
He growled, rage surging to his chest.  
  
They both got up to their feet, and he immediately noticed her limp.  
  
_It wasn’t a trick_.  
  
The anger dissipated. Mon-El stopped. “Enough.”

He dragged Kara to the side of the room, sitting her down onto a chair while he kneeled in front of her to examine her ankle. He pressed lightly into the side, prompting a slight grimace. She tensed at the contact, her lips pursing, but not speaking.  
  
It was starting to swell.

He sighed.  
  
_How troublesome._  
  
“I’ll get you some ice."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. This chapter wasn't easy to write at all. It's not easy writing a bunch of connected / natural flowing conversation. 
> 
> Random song recommendation? 
> 
> To the moon and back - Chris Mann. 
> 
> The title is a lovely coincidence.

Mon-El left the room and returned with a small pack of ice, which he wrapped into a towel before kneeling down in front of Kara and pressing the pack against her swollen ankle.  
  
Kara tensed at the initial contact, then exhaled softly as the numbness started to alleviate her discomfort. Mon-El was controlling the pack in a careful manner and Kara was silently appreciative of his help.  
  
“Are you in pain?” he finally asked.  
  
Kara shook her head. “Not so much now.”  
  
“I can bring you to the med bay if necessary.”  
  
“It’s just a sprain.”  
  
“I’m not going to apologize.”  
  
“Why would you apologize?” she asked.  
  
Mon-El moved the ice pack from one side of Kara’s leg to the other. “For injuring you.”  
  
Kara shook her head again. “No, I – I should be the one apologizing. This is all my fault.” She felt embarrassed; she wasn’t the sort of person so easily prone to confrontations. It wasn’t like her to do any of that at all.  
  
Mon-El simply shrugged. “You fight like a child--”  
  
Kara immediately cocked an eyebrow, a sarcastic retort prepared, until realizing that he wasn’t being condescending at all.  
  
“—blindly swinging your fists like you would in the presence of a yellow sun. Technique is more important here, there is more emphasis on balance, on breathing, on your—why are you looking at me like that?”  
  
Kara blinked. “Like what?”  
  
“Like a wide-eyed child,” said Mon-El deadpan, “seeing Daxam for the first time in all its eternal glory.”  
  
“Weird example aside,” Kara pointed to the two of them. “I just wasn’t expecting… this.”  
  
“This?”  
  
“You. Me. Us. Talking normally.”  
  
“I do not understand.”  
  
“Conversation,” she said. “Especially since you were avoiding me just now.”  
  
“I wasn’t avoiding you.”  
  
“You were. You walked away when I tried to talk to you. I had to chase you all the way over.”  
  
“I was busy. I didn’t want to talk.”  
  
Kara folded her arms across her chest. “Busy avoiding me you mean.”  
  
Mon-El made an annoyed _tsk_ , then stood upright. “Speak your mind then, Princess of Krypton.”  
  
“Well then! First of all, I--” Kara spluttered, then paused, surprised at her sudden loss of words. There were a million things she’d wanted to say to Mon-El, thousands of conversations that played out over and over again in her head, yet now in front of him, the words seemed to have all but vanished, leaving her behind an empty and vacant shell. “Firstly… well, umm… stop calling me princess!”  
  
“The laws of ascension clearly state that you are—” Mon-El started to say.  
  
“—still not a princess,” Kara was adamant. “And I don’t like being addressed as such. I’m Kara. I want to be known as Kara. Simple as that.”  
  
“Not by Daxamite culture. It is customary to address Daxamite nobles by their proper titles.”  
  
“I’m not a Daxamite noble.”  
  
“You will become one soon enough,” the disdain in Mon-El’s voice was as clear as day.  
  
“You don’t have to sound so disappointed,” Kara responded sarcastically. “I wasn’t the one who came up with that idea.”  
  
“You were the one who agreed to the betrothment,” Mon-El pointed out. “You could have said no.”  
  
“And let Earth fall!?” Kara’s voice rose bitterly. “Your brother threatened my home! I had no choice!”  
  
“Earth is not Krypton,” Mon-El was indifferent. “Let it burn.”  
  
“How do you not understand…?” Kara sighed. “Do you not have a single shred of empathy!?”  
  
“I do not wish to understand your Kryptonian sentimentality.”  
  
“I wasn’t expecting a Daxamite to,” she spat back angrily.  
  
They stood there glaring at the other.  
  
Mon-El spoke first. “The conversation is over. I’ll send Lyra for you.”  
  
“No, it’s not,” Kara stood up unsteadily. “It’s far from over.”  
  
He ignored her.  
  
“Don’t you walk away from me,” she stepped towards him, momentarily forgetting about her injured ankle. It gave out on Kara’s next step, sending her falling forward, just as Mon-El’s hand shot towards her, catching her mid-fall, arm securely around her waist.  
  
They were still for a second, then Kara pushed herself away.

“I-…” she breathed heavily. “Don’t make me chase you again. I will do it.”  
  
Mon-El closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long exasperated exhale.  
  
“Dinner,” he said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“We’ll talk again at dinner,” he motioned to her leg. “When you’re feeling better.”  
  
“Dinner then.”

 

* * *

 

“Your Highness!” Lyra’s cranial orbs beeped frantically. “Let me prepare the surgical suite!”  
  
“Lyra, that’s unnecessary,” Kara said as they entered her room. “It’s just a sprain.”  
  
Kara sat down onto the bed and studied her ankle. It was still slightly swollen and red, sensitive to the touch but not as painful as before. “Do we have ice?” she asked.  
  
Lyra nodded, disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing with a large chunk.  
  
Kara smiled. “Not like that, Lyra.” She broke the chunk into smaller pieces, wrapping them with a towel as Mon-El did and pressing it against her ankle.  
  
“Your methods are primitive,” Lyra noted.  
  
“Primitive but effective,” said Kara.  
  
Lyra shrugged, seeming to agree. “So, did you get what you were looking for?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“When you approached the Prince, I assumed it was to ask him about the events of Daxalsos?”    
  
Kara had completely forgotten about that. “We… err, didn’t get to that part. He wasn’t all that interested in talking.”  
  
“Oh, perhaps some other time?”  
  
“I have another chance later on. We’re having dinner together.”  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Lyra beamed. “Shall I pick out a dress for you?”  
  
“Not that kind of dinner. We’re just going to talk.”  
  
“There are dresses for talking. And there are dresses for ‘ _talking_ ’.”  
  
Kara shook her head a little too quickly. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll manage.” 

 

* * *

The private dining room was located on one of the upper levels of the tower; simplistic in design, the surrounding walls erected in shades of obsidian black; a single table stood at the center, its length stretching nearly the entire room, with only two seats, one on each end.  
  
Mon-El arrived first, taking his seat and pouring himself a glass of Daxam liquor. He downed the entire glass in a single shot, then poured himself another, then another, the conversation he had with his brother playing over and over again in his head.

* * *

 _“Kar Gand!” Mon-El marched up to his brother. “Is there no other way!?”_  
  
_“No other way?” Kar Gand repeated, unsure of his brother’s intention._  
  
_“That… Kryptonian!” Mon-El seethed._  
  
_Kar Gand laughed. “Is she proving too much for you to handle?”_  
  
_“No,” Mon-El grunted in frustration. “She’s just… an annoyance.”_  
  
_“Then what is the problem dear brother?”_  
  
_“I… she’s…” Mon-El struggled with the words. “Argh!”_  
  
_Kar Gand grabbed onto Mon-El’s shoulders. “Brother, whichever feelings you may have for her. Don’t ever forget, she is vital to our victory. Your mission lies above all others.”  
_  
_“You don’t understand, what you’re asking me to do… She won’t go down without a fight.”_  
  
_“Then you do what you must. Lie, manipulate, threaten.”_  
  
_“That is not the Daxamite way.”_  
  
_“But it is your duty, brother.” Kar Gand’s eyes burned fiery. “Never forget, Mon-El, it is your duty.”_

The glass shattered in his hand and sliced into his palm. He wrapped his hand with a nearby napkin and sent for a cleaning droid.

* * *

  
  
Kara arrived an hour later, wearing a simple Kryptonian dress; long-sleeved and white, her hair tied into a neat bun; her outfit was more professional than it was casual, like she was attending a business meeting and not dinner.  
  
Mon-El greeted her with a cold stare.  
  
She walked past him and took her seat at the other end of the table. The two of them were seated so far apart they could barely see each other beyond the many utensils and decorations adorning the table’s length.  
  
Which was exactly what Mon-El had intended.  
  
Kara however, did not have the same idea. Instead, she picked up her seat and dragged it all the way to the other end of the table until she was seated beside Mon-El as they would at a square table.

“What are you doing?” Mon-El asked, face plastered with visible annoyance.  
  
“This is much better,” said Kara. “At least we can talk now. We were so far apart it’d be no better if we were in different rooms.”  
  
“You… you’re such…” Mon-El stopped himself and took a deep breath. “Fine.”  
  
“I’m such a what?”  
  
He scowled. “I said it’s fine.”  
  
“No, you were about to say something else.” Kara wasn’t backing down. “I’m such a what?”  
  
“An annoyance. A bother. Maddening. You’re-”  
  
“Do you have a thesaurus hidden up your sleeve?”  
  
“I- What?! No I do not. That would be highly inconvenient. Is this the point of your talk?!”  
  
“No,” she said. “I wanted to talk about our betrothment.”  
  
Mon-El huffed. “There is nothing to talk about.”  
  
“Don’t you want to at least know the person you’re about to marry?”   
  
“No.”  
  
“Well, I do.”  
  
Mon-El could not stop the displeasure from leaking into his voice. “There is no reason for us to be anything more than strangers. You’re entering the betrothment out of necessity and I’m doing so for duty. Our marriage is nothing more than a contract.”  
  
“But… we can try to be acquaintances, at least,” Kara struggled with the words. “We can… try to understand each other… and… it won’t be so…”  
  
Mon-El laughed. “What is there to understand? It’s clear how much we dislike one another.”  
  
“It…” Kara stuttered. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”  
  
“You’re too naïve, princess. You’re a Kryptonian. I’m a Daxamite. The hatred is in our blood.”  
  
“I… I don’t believe that.”  
  
“Kryptonians. Always the optimists.”  
  
“I… have to be.” Kara’s voice softened. “Hope is the only thing left that keeps me from drowning...”  
  
Mon-El was completely caught off guard by Kara’s answer. “What?”  
  
"I - I'm... don't you get it? I'm... afraid. I'm afraid of screwing up when so many lives are dependent on me, on my decisions. I'm afraid of never seeing my family or my friends again. I'm afraid of your brother not upholding his end of the bargain and still destroying Earth anyway..." She exhaled, and her shoulders fell. "I'm-... there are a million things I'm terrified of, and right now... hope is the only thing that still keeps me afloat."  
  
It was a side of her he hadn't expected.

“Why…” he finally asked after a few long seconds of silence. “Why are you telling me this?”  
  
“Because… I’m tired,” she said. “I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of acting like I can handle everything that’s being thrown my way.”  
  
Mon-El didn’t know what else to say.  
  
The droids came shortly with their food and they ate in complete silence.  
  
When they were done with their meal, Kara stood up. “Thank you for dinner.”  
  
He nodded, and she left the room.  
  
Afterwards, he remained in his seat for the longest time, annoyed by the conflicting emotions swirling within him.

 _“Lie, manipulate, threaten.”_  
  
Mon-El shook his head. It wasn’t necessary. The girl was already barely hanging on as it was.  
  
_“Brother, the Kryptonian girl is vital to our victory. Remember your mission!”_  
  
He knew what he needed to do. But…

 _“Never Forget, Mon-El, it is your duty.”_  
  
He clenched his fist so hard that the previous wound opened up again and started to bleed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda like our first POV of Mon-El? 
> 
> We can see that he still doesn't like Kara, but he doesn't exactly want to harm her either. I'd say he's most ambivalent; he dislikes Kara, but their conversation kind of changed the way he sees her. He realizes that their situation isn't exactly the same, she's having it a lot worse than he has.
> 
> Leave me your thoughts :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late late update, it's been a super busy month for me. 
> 
> Oh and that scene in the last episode? Definitely inspiring me to write more. 
> 
> Current songs on repeat - 
> 
> Trouble I'm in - Twinbed  
> XO - Keywest
> 
> Also, I don't use betas, so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know :)

The balcony of Kara’s room provided her a panoramic view of the surrounding canyons, from the massive domelike structure she’d arrived in, to the lake of calm silver beneath her, the surface completely motionless, without a single visible current. The balcony itself was a tiny convex space accessible from her bedroom, the walls made of the same transparent material as the starlarium, granting her a magnificent view of the surroundings without exposure to the dangerous exterior atmosphere.  
  
Nothing existed beyond the massive dome and the industrial mining structures, the lands barren and grey, but there still remained something breathtaking in the cold starkness, almost like the moon itself an accidental painting, splashed across an unforgiving canvas with brushes of dreary grey.  
  
It was Kara’s favorite – and only – view from her room. It was also where she’d spent most of her afternoons cooped up, resting against a fort of spare pillows and blankets, a cup of Kryptonian tea in one hand and a book from the lower-level library in the other. There was little else for her to do in the long days since her arrival, and her submissiveness wasn’t an accedence of her fate, but the realization that there remained no better option in her current situation; best to remain compliant than incur the wrath of her hosts, at least until a better opportunity presented itself.  
  
Kara flipped to the next page of the book she was reading, pausing momentarily to take a small sip from her freshly brewed cup of Kryptonian tea. The drink was light and sweet, brewed from the petals of a flower native to only Krypton and Daxam. There was a jar of the petals available to her in one of the kitchen cupboards, and the drink was as delightful and pleasant as she remembered.  
  
She took another sip, enjoying the outside view when sudden movement below caught her eye; a single shuttle traversing the connecting bridge between the dome and the tower, coming to an eventual stop by the tower’s entrance. Two men clad in imperial armor exited first, followed by another in the long, flowing robes of a Daxamite nobleman, then lastly a young boy, who Kara assumed was the nobleman’s child.  
  
It was the first time Kara had seen visitors since her arrival the week before. As Gand Tower was restricted to only members of the House Gand, and with the majority of the moon’s non-royal residents living within the dome, her interaction with those outside of the Gand family had been otherwise non-existent.  
  
Needless to say, her curiosity was piqued.  
  
So Kara decided to take a closer look, quickly finishing her drink, putting her book aside and grabbing a jacket on her way out of the room. X’Garr was standing guard outside her room when she left, grunting and half-bowing in acknowledgement when she made her way past him. He fell into a noticeable pace behind her, each loud footstep echoing through the long hallways.  
  
The two of them took the central elevators down to the lobby and Kara stopped at the top of the double-set stairways opposite the tower’s entrance, her back pressed to one end of the corridor as she peaked her face over the corner.  
  
The four visitors were already in the lobby; the nobleman in the long, flowing garb, his two armored guards, and the young boy, who seemed no more than the age of ten, standing behind the nobleman with his head bowed and holding the hemline of the man’s robes, preventing the fabric from touching the floor. While the nobleman was dressed in grandeur, the boy was anything but; his clothing torn and disheveled, his face dirty and bruised.  
  
Suddenly, it became less likely for the boy to be the nobleman’s son, but his… _slave_.  
  
Kara gripped onto the railing at the realization, and even the thought of that _word_ started to leave a bitter taste in her mouth. _How could she have forgotten?_ Even though Krypton had abolished slavery hundreds of years ago, Daxam had not; in fact, a fraction of their economy still thrived from the slave trade, regardless of Krypton’s past efforts in shutting down the slavers. It was also one of the many reasons their planets went to war all those years ago.  
  
Kara grew up believing in equality, that none shall own another living person, regardless of their own rank and position, so when she heard of the inhumane Daxamite slave trade, even the notion of it caused her blood to boil; it was another reason to add to the long list of reasons for her to hate the Daxamites.  
  
If she were back on Earth, there’d be no stopping her from flying straight down to the nobleman and forcefully _terminating_ the slave’s contract. _But…_ she wasn’t on Earth. She was on Daxamlos; slavery was legal on this moon, and it was in their culture, and as wrong and as immoral as it was – this simply wasn’t her fight.  
  
_It wasn’t her fight._  
  
She repeated the thought to herself over and over again, until one of the guards handed the nobleman a whip-like object when the boy fell suddenly to the ground, seemingly from exhaustion. The nobleman reared the whip backwards, its electrical end crackling against the marble floor—then lunged forward, and the boy screamed as the whip sliced down the side of his face.  
  
Then, it was suddenly _her_ fight.  
  
Kara exploded down the stairwells two huge steps at a time, drawing everyone’s attention as she skidded across the lobby floor. The two guards reacted immediately to her presence, hands drifting to their weapons as they stepped in front of the nobleman, preventing her a direct path of access.  
  
Except she wasn’t heading for the nobleman in the first place. She ran past the three of them and crouched down beside the little boy; he was bleeding from where the whip had struck, a line of red that trailed crimson down the side of his face.  
  
The boy seemed even younger than Kara previously thought up close. “Are you okay?” she asked, reaching for the boy’s shoulder, only for him to immediately flinch from her touch, retreating away with his hands wrapped around himself. He mumbled something in a tongue Kara did not understand, and he was shaking, like he was afraid of the repercussions of even just receiving her help.  
  
It was heartbreaking, and it took all Kara could with gritted teeth to remain silent and not lash out at the nobleman. Her chest tightened with an angry knot as she slowly got back up to her feet, her eyes like fiery daggers, burning a direct path towards the nobleman and his two guards.  
  
The four of them stood there for a few long, awkward seconds, till the nobleman spoke, his voice shrilling with obvious displeasure at being interrupted. “Who are you?!"  
  
“Someone who is not going to let you harm the boy any further,” Kara stepped in front of the young child, her hands held outwards in a protective gesture.  
  
The nobleman’s nostrils flared. “What I do with my _slargveas_ is none of your business.” He twirled the whip in his palm. “Punishment must be dealt, it’s the only way _they_ will learn.”  
  
She still refused to balk. “No, I won’t let you.” Her tone was firm, but her hands were shaking. If she were back on Earth, she’d have protected the child with everything she had. But this wasn’t Earth, and she wasn’t invincible. Kara knew that the whip could seriously hurt her, even maim her.  
  
The nobleman tilted his head in a curious manner, as though he couldn’t comprehend her actions. “Your willingness in helping a _slargveas_ stumps me.” He stepped past his two guards, his eyes narrowing like he was studying her as dispassionately as a scientist over a microscope. “You… are not Daxamite.”

“I’m not,” she replied.  
  
“That explains your willingness to defend him. You are _slargveas_ as well.” He looked at her from top to bottom. “A housemaid… or a pleasure slave. But it doesn’t matter. You are _slargveas_. The House of Gand will be appreciative of my efforts in teaching their _slargveas_ a lesson in obedience.”  
  
Before Kara could reply, the nobleman lunged forward, the whip crackling through the air as it tore a path straight in her direction. She raised her hands instinctively, knowing how little they provided in lessening the impact of the whip. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she tensed herself for the pain, praying for the worst to pass quickly.  
  
A second passed. Then another.  
  
Unexpectedly, she still felt no pain.  
  
Slowly, Kara peeked open an eye, and saw the whip caught inches from her face in X’Garr’s grip. The electrical tip fizzled a final time and went completely dead. X’Garr grunted—then yanked hard on the whip, sending the nobleman flying forward and crashing face first onto the marbled floor.  
  
The massive Branx grunted again, looking towards Kara with something she swore resembled a smile. But the smile lasted for a single second, and in the next, X’Garr went completely slack, his eyes glazing over as he toppled downwards, his armored knees meeting the ground in a thunderous crack. He remained in that position for a long wobbling second, then fell over.  
  
There were two large spears sticking out of his back.  
  
Kara immediately ran to his side, but X’Garr wasn’t moving. She said his name, but there came neither grunt nor response.  
  
“Y-You!” The nobleman was bleeding from his nose, and he was livid, veins popping out of his neck as he tried pulling himself up onto his feet. He failed, stumbling forward, then clinging onto one of the guards for balance, before shouting at the other one, “Take their heads, now!”  
  
There was no hesitation. The guard drew his blade in an immediate flash of silver steel and advanced in her direction.  
  
She reached for the closest weapon in sight – one of the spears still plunged into X’Garr’s back, and with a whispered apology, freed the weapon with a spurt of purple blood. She rose unsteadily to her feet, the spear held outwards with neither form nor stance; Kara had never fought with a spear before, much less without her powers and against an imperial guard.  
  
The guard lanced forward, and she barely managed to get her weapon up in time to block his first swing. The clash of metal reverberated through the lobby, and the impact sent waves of hurt running up Kara’s arms, threatening her with a weakening grip.  
  
She staggered backwards, the difference in their skills evident, but the guard granted her no reprieve, the second clash of their weapons sent her stumbling, and the third down to her knees. He swung again, and her spear was split completely down its center.  
  
Then he moved in front of her, his blade lifted into the air—and sent straight towards her neck.  
  
But before the guard could slice her head clean off—a third person stepped in between them, the scabbard of a blade shooting forward and deflecting the guard’s swing, and without even bothering to draw his own sword, swept downwards and kicked the guard’s legs out from under him.  
  
The guard fell, but even before he crashed onto the floor, the person was already moving; he rolled forward in the direction of the second guard, who started to draw his own blade in the other’s advance.  
  
The newcomer crossed the lobby in seconds and launched towards the second guard, the bottom of his boot meeting the hilt of the guard’s blade in mid-draw and kicking the blade back into its scabbard, then another pivot and this guard was also knocked off his feet.  
  
The first guard, picking himself up from the ground, swung at the man again, who turned in his direction—and as he did, the guard stopped completely in mid-swing, releasing his blade and falling down to his knees, head bowed to the ground.

“My Prince.”

 

* * *

  
  
The floor fell into utter silence as Mon-El looked from the nobleman to the child and finally, coming to a stop on Kara.  
  
His eyes twitched, and a familiar look of annoyance crossed his face; one which Kara never thought she’d be glad to see.  
  
He approached her. “Are you injured?”  
  
Kara shook her head. She knew he wasn’t asking if she was _okay_. Mon-El only wanted to know about her physical wellbeing and nothing more, but she didn’t blame him for his lack of empathy. It was her fault that they were even in this situation. She reacted impulsively was in way over her head.  
  
If he hadn’t arrived the second he did, then…  
  
“M-My Prince!” the nobleman staggered over to the two of them, his previous smugness replaced completely by an air of sudden timidness. “I-I didn’t know it was you! I-I was just trying to teach the _slargveas_ a lesson!”

The mention of the word caused Mon-El to close his eyes and exhale, like he was coming upon the realization of what had led up to the events that happened. She knew that he knew. He knew she’d confronted the nobleman because of the boy – because of how her people viewed slaves.  
  
She could almost hear him say it in his usually infuriated tone. _You Kryptonians_.  
  
Something moved to the left of her, and to Kara’s surprise, she saw X’Garr starting to stir. She started in his direction, wanting to check on his injuries and making sure nothing was too severe.  
  
She only managed two steps before the nobleman latched down onto her wrist.  
  
“ _Slargveas_!” he shouted. “How dare you rise in the presence of our prince?!”  
  
She never got to answer him.  
  
Mon-El stepped between them and there was no hiding the fury that burned underneath his tempered exterior.  
  
The nobleman – realizing his mistake, released her, but only managed a single step back before Mon-El latched onto his neck with an iron grip. The nobleman made a loud gurgling noise as he was forced down onto his knees, his eyes bulging as he looked to his guards for help, but only receiving silence in return. The two imperial guards remained unmoving, still kneeling before Mon-El.  
  
“She is not _slargveas_!” Mon-El roared. “She is my…” the words caught in his throat, like he wasn’t able to finish his own sentence. He paused, and his own second of hesitation seemed to have only angered him further.  
  
His grip tightened and the nobleman’s eyes started to roll, until Kara reached out and grabbed onto his shoulder.   
  
“Stop,” she said. “Please.”   
  
She had to repeat herself another time before Mon-El did.  
  
The nobleman fell to the ground, heaving desperately for air.  
  
“You would grant him mercy?” Mon-El snarled.  
  
“He… doesn't deserve to die.” Kara looked over at X’Garr, “Plus, we need to get help for X’Garr. He-“  
  
“The Branx is fine,” Mon-El interjected. “They heal fast from physical wounds. Just leave him be.”  
  
She checked X’Garr’s wounds. Mon-El was right, they were already closed. It took only another thirty seconds before X’Garr was able to get back up on his feet, grunting like nothing had ever happened.  
  
“Enough of this,” Mon-El’s patience was clearly running thin. “We have other matters to attend to.”  
  
Kara didn’t want to leave, not yet. “Wait,” her eyes darted over to the young boy; she wanted to free him from the nobleman, but she didn’t know how to ask Mon-El for such a thing. She didn’t know if he would help her with what she wanted.  
  
But it seemed that she didn’t need to. He seemed to understand perfectly what she wanted, and with another one of his annoyed scowls, pulled the nobleman back up onto his feet.  
  
“The boy,” Mon-El asked the nobleman, “is he yours?”  
  
“Y-Yes, My Prince,” the nobleman stuttered, clearly terrified of further angering Mon-El.  
  
“Not anymore.”  
  
The nobleman blinked, like he took a full second to register what Mon-El was saying. “Of… c-course.”  
  
Realizing what Mon-El had done for her, Kara approached the boy and held out a hand, hoping that he understood from her gesture that she meant him no harm.  
  
He was hesitant at first, eyes darting continuously between her and the nobleman, before eventually grasping onto her hand with an unsteady grip. She helped him up to his feet, and together with Mon-El and X’Garr, left the lobby and the still-kneeling nobleman behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little bit of development here. We can see that Mon-El -- while extremely annoyed -- understands Kara's dislike of slavery. We can also see that they grew up in very different cultures. For Daxamites, honor is something worth dying for, and there is no greater insult than insulting another's honor. To them, slaves are even lower than humans, and by calling Kara a slave, the nobleman was insulting her honor, which angered Mon-El, and the fact that he couldn't even bring himself to say that she's his betrothed / mate / wife-to-be just angered him even further. If Kara didn't stop him, he would have definitely strangled the man. 
> 
> Next episode summary? - Mon-El & Kara attends one of the famous "Daxamite parties". 
> 
> Also, my birthday just passed, so if you'd like to share some love... know that I'm a greedy love hoarder ;D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 is finally here! 
> 
> Phew, took me long enough. 
> 
> Well, I did say its a slow burn XD
> 
> Random song recs - 
> 
> you are a memory - Message To Bears  
> 5 AM - Amber Run  
> bumper cars - Alex & sierra 
> 
> Also, many thanks to the lovely karamelknightngale420 for helping me beta this story!

The four of them headed to the infirmary.  
  
Kara waited beside the young boy in the doctor’s office, his hands in hers, adamant in having only their finest doctors examine his injuries. After a few, short minutes, an old bespectacled doctor returned with the diagnosis; other than the boy’s malnourished state and the flesh wounds he’d suffered at the hands of the nobleman, he was otherwise fine. The treatment would only involve a few short days of infirmary stay.  
  
The boy seemed a little nervous at the mention of being left behind, so Kara promised him that she would return later to visit, before releasing him into the doctor’s care. He gave Kara’s hand a long, final squeeze, before leaving with the doctor. Kara watched the boy go, waving to him when he looked back in her direction.  
  
After the two of them left, she turned her attention towards X’Garr. His wounds were mostly healed by then, evident from the scabbing that had already closed over the gashes where the spears had punctured his flesh.  
  
She could tell that he wasn’t at all interested in getting checked out by a doctor; still, she wouldn’t compromise. Not after the way he had selflessly protected her from the nobleman’s guards. She knew it was his duty as her bodyguard, but even so, she was thankful. The incident made her see things differently. She wasn’t invincible here. She had to pick her fights, or others would get hurt.  
  
Kara didn’t speak X’Garr’s language, and Lyra wasn’t present to translate, so instead, Kara pointed in the direction of the doctor’s office, hoping X’Garr would understand.  
  
He grunted once in protest.  
  
She pointed again, much like a stern parent, stepping in front of the Branx and blocking his path.  
  
He glared down at her for a few, long seconds, then finally let out a defeated grunt and marched his way into the office.  
  
Then, Kara was left alone in the hallway with Mon-El.  
  
He stood across from her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest; his entire posture reminded Kara of a disappointed parent, like as if she had done something that resulted in the two of them ending up outside the principal’s office waiting to be disciplined.  
  
He had not spoken a single word to her since her departure from the tower’s lobby, but his silence was more than enough; it was deafening, and she could almost feel his annoyance flowing across the hallway in waves, infecting her with his disapproval.  
  
She exhaled and glared at him; she didn’t need to assume his thoughts, she knew exactly what he was thinking. He’d given her no reason to think otherwise. He was angry, displeased, annoyed, and a dozen other words all meaning the same thing.  
  
The altercation with the nobleman was her fault. She knew it. But the way he was acting, the silent treatment, the disapproving stares – it was immature, childish even. It felt like he was throwing an adult tantrum, the kind without screaming or flailing, but instead an unhealthy dose of passive aggressiveness.  
  
She knew he did not approve of her actions, and that his intervention wasn’t out of concern, but his duty in keeping her alive and in one piece till the date of their wedding. It was nothing more than political obligation, for whatever undisclosed reasons he and his family still needed her for.  
  
That was all she was to him, a pawn in their game.  
  
But a willing one; for she was here by choice. She came to save her planet, and if that meant sacrificing her freedom, her future, and even her name, in exchange for her people’s lives, then it would all be worth it in the end.  
  
She knew he had no reason to like her. Fair enough. But it wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to make things easier between them. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried opening up to him during their dinner the other night. She wanted to let him know that she wasn’t trying to upend his life on purpose. She was only trying to survive, to save her people; there wasn’t a grander scheme of things for her.  
  
Their dinner was the first time she had let her guard down in front of him… and it was going to be the last. Because all she had received in return for revealing her vulnerabilities – was silent discontent. He had made it clear that he did not care about her beyond the basic terms of their betrothment; there existed nothing between them but a political bond. She was bound to him because of her deal with Kar Gand, and he was bound to her out of duty. There was nothing more.  
  
Neither one of them spoke for what seemed like the longest time, until Kara could stand the silence no further, marching her way over to Mon-El and jabbing her finger straight into his chest.  
  
“Say it,” she huffed. “I know you want to.”  
  
He stood at least a head taller than she, and because of their height difference, it was almost condescending the way he had to look down to catch her eye.  
  
“Say what?” Mon-El’s voice dripped with annoyance.

“That I messed up,” Kara fired back without hesitation. “That I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. That I clearly wasn’t thinking. That it was stupid and reckless of me and I could’ve gotten myself killed.” She exhaled, then said a little softer, “And that if you weren’t there, I… might’ve gotten myself injured, or even worse…”  
  
He was quiet for a moment, like he was letting the words sink in. “There is no need,” he said afterwards, his tone a little more patronizing than usual. “You seem to know it well enough, _Princess_.”  
  
Kara’s eyebrows squinted together and her nostrils flared; her finger poked again at his chest, and it took all her self-control not to punch him in the face.  
  
“I… well... I’ll have you know…” she stuttered. “Were it to happen again, my actions would all still be the same!”  
  
“I know.”  
  
His reaction was not at all what she had expected. It hadn’t felt demeaning in any way. She had anticipated a sarcastic response, not actual agreement. For a few, long seconds, she was at a complete loss for words.  
  
“Kryptonian morality and slavery do not go well in hand,” he continued, paying no heed to her pause, speaking as though it was the most commonly known knowledge in the universe. “Expecting otherwise, is like waiting for the sun to set in the opposite direction, or having hope for a _Zarrstakr_ to abandon hunt of its prey once catching scent, or—“  
  
“—I get it,” she interrupted, not sure whether to be offended by his stereotypical—though correct—assumptions of her Kryptonian values. “So that means…” she asked. “You’re not mad?”  
  
His eyes narrowed. “I’m… displeased with the way you handled things.”  
  
“Then I’ll admit…” she swallowed, then quietly said, “it may have been a little too reckless of me, I should’ve gone about it in a different way, I…”  
  
“A little?” he interrupted, tone heavy with sarcasm.  
  
She scowled. “I’m admitting it was my fault. Don’t push it.”  
  
“Fine. This conversation is over.”  
  
Mon-El abruptly stepped away from the wall, his body’s movement sending Kara stumbling a step backwards, her hands returning quickly to her side.  
  
“We have more important things to attend to than petty squabbles,” he said.

She nodded. He’d mentioned having matters to attend to; after being left to herself for the past few days, this was something that definitely piqued her interest.  
  
“What are we attending?” she asked.  
  
“ _Rezarksorm,_ in honor of my brother’s recent victory against the _Yrunook_ Empire.”  
  
Kara blinked in disbelief. “Are we attending… a Daxamite party?”  
  
Mon-El nodded.

 

* * *

  
  
The royal families of Daxam were known for their extravagant parties, often lasting weeks on end, but when Mon-El stopped by Kara’s room later on, she realized from his outfit – that they might not be attending _that_ sort of party after all.  
  
Mon-El looked nothing like the stereotypical party-boy princes Kara had heard so much about growing up. He wasn’t wearing the typical Daxamite party toga, but instead a formal military suit, dark colored and immaculately tailored; his house’s crest embroidered onto his epaulette, an imperial sash running down his shoulder to his waist in the color of Daxam red.  
  
There was something different in the way he held himself, resonating with an unspoken strength; it was clear to anyone in his presence that he wasn’t just a prince of Daxam, but a general of its imperial might.  
  
He walked past her and stepped into the room, their eyes locking, his lips in a displeased curl.  
  
“You are not yet dressed.”  
  
“Of course not, I didn’t know what type of party we would be attending,” she replied. “Or the dress code for such an event. I would like to be dressed appropriately.”  
  
“Formal.”  
  
He said nothing more.  
  
She nodded and stepped back into the bedroom, locking the door behind her, forcing him to wait outside. There were already three different dresses laid out on her bed; three different dresses she had picked out while waiting for his arrival. She dismissed the first one immediately – a casual knee-length dress; it was something meant more for dinner parties and small social gatherings, nothing as formal as his military suit.  
  
The other two, however, were proper gowns. The first being a little more extravagant, laced with precious gemstones, intricately designed with a swirl of vibrancy, woven in the color of Daxam red. The other was less adorned, light in color and simplistic in design, nothing too fancy, but modest in all its definition.  
  
The first one would definitely turn more heads; it wasn’t a comfortable dress, heavy and restrictive in places that would’ve definitely preferred a bit more air, but it was without a doubt, a dress meant to impress.  
  
And that was her purpose too, _wasn’t it_?  
_  
The Last Princess of Krypton_ , they had called her, like she was a highly coveted prize, an object to be claimed. She hated it. She hated the thought of being Mon-El’s _thing,_ hated the idea of being paraded around the party like a trophy wrapped in his arms.  
  
Minimal time was spent on her makeup and hair, deciding to let the latter curl down around her shoulders as it normally would. Her plan wasn’t to look ‘pretty’ for the party, just ‘proper’ enough for the dress code, a bare minimum so as to not insult anyone, and nothing more.  
  
It was a harmless little act of defiance, as petty as it was juvenile, like a child deciding to play in the mud before attending school. But she couldn’t resist, she wasn’t going to just lie down and accept her fate. She wanted people to know that, and above all, she wanted _him_ to know that.  
  
So, she ended up picking the second dress.  
  
It was a perfect fit. But there was one small problem. She couldn’t reach the back zipper. She struggled with it for a few long minutes, even contemplated changing into the other zipperless dress, before ultimately realizing that she had no other choice but to ask for help. _His_ help, specifically. There was no one else available.  
  
She slowly inched the bedroom door open and peeked her head out – he stood across the room from her, his attention focused on a small datapad he held in his hands. She tried to get his attention by making a soft _ehem_ sound. It didn’t work. Or perhaps he was intentionally ignoring her.  
  
So she took a deep breath and coughed loudly in his direction.  
  
He looked up from the datapad, unamused, an eyebrow cocked lazily in her direction.  
  
“I… umm… need help with the… dress,” she said softly, eyes darting elsewhere for a second; she knew he wasn’t the enemy, he wasn’t a villain trying to take her down, but still, she couldn’t shake the uncomfortableness of asking anything of him, much less his help.  
  
There was also the matter of her pride and stubbornness in the way.  
  
He didn’t respond, but placed the datapad aside and got up to his feet.  
  
She turned away as he entered the bedroom; she couldn’t see him, but she felt his approach, his nearing presence. He stopped behind her, completely silent for the longest time.  
  
Then he spoke. “Your hair.”  
  
The suddenness of his voice caused her breath to hitch for a second; it was softer than usual, warm against her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut for another long second, then opened them again, her hands reaching behind and pulling her hair to the front.  
  
There was a moment’s pause, followed by the slight pull of his fingers against the unseen zipper. He did so in a careful manner, almost gentle, a side of him still foreign to her, much like when he helped apply the ice pack to her leg.  
  
Then, someone else barged noisily into the room.  
  
“Your Highness!” Lyra skidded to a stop in front of the two of them, out of breath, her face completely flushed. “I came as soon as I heard! Are you oka--…?” her words caught in mid-sentence, and she blinked, once, twice, then another time, like she needed time to process the scene in front of her.  
  
“A-Am… am I interrupting?” she finally asked.  
  
“Interrupting?-” Kara started to ask, just as Mon-El finished zipping up her dress with one swift, final tug, causing her to jump at the sudden change in speed.  
  
“No, you’re not,” Mon-El said, his tone final.  
  
Then he turned to Kara.  
  
“Let’s go,” and without checking to see if she would follow, turned and left the room in haste.

 

* * *

  
  
The journey to their destination was a quiet one; an automated shuttle waited for them at the base of the tower; there were no attendants, no guards in sight. Lyra stayed behind as she wasn’t allowed into the party, so it was just the two of them.  
  
Kara climbed into the shuttle first, followed by Mon-El; the shuttle was built like a carriage, doors on both sides and with the two of them seated across from one another. There was a small datapad built into the side next to Mon-El’s seat, and with the quick press of a few buttons, they were promptly on their way.  
  
Neither spoke during the first part of the journey; there were times when she felt his gaze, but she never once acknowledged him. When she finally looked at him, he was already occupied with something else, as if he had already lost all interest in her.  
  
“Where is everyone?” Kara asked a few minutes after their descent into the dome; the shuttle navigated through dozens of winding corridors, and much like her first trip through the massive structure, there wasn’t a single other soul in sight.  
  
“The dome’s functions are all automated,” replied Mon-El. “The moon was once a mining node, one amongst thousands, until my ancestors’ discovery of its underground Nth-metal lake. Hundreds of years later, it is now the source of House Gand’s strength, and our most closely guarded secret. The less outsiders know of it, the safer we are.”  
  
Kara was quiet for a moment. _The less outsiders know of it, the safer we are_. She didn’t know how to interpret the way he had phrased that sentence. Was she no longer an outsider? Or was she considered so little of a threat that he couldn’t care less about what she did with that information?  
  
She had learned about Nth-metal during her time in school on Krypton; the metal was vital in the construction of gravitational slipstream drives. The invention of such drives shortened the traveling time between galaxies from years to mere hours. A six-hundred year cryosleep journey could now be achieved in weeks.  
  
Kingdoms had gone to war over even the smallest amounts of unpure Nth-metal; a drop of _pure_ Nth-metal could power the gravitational slipstream drives of the entire Kryptonian fleet; two drops could buy entire galaxies. And by controlling the largest source of _pure_ Nth-metal in the entire known galaxy… it was like controlling the human equivalent of food and water or even oxygen.  
  
Without Nth-metal, there would be no faster-than-light travel, there would be no jumping across galaxies. For them to own such a huge deposit… the House of Gand had a lot more power than she initially thought.  
  
It was terrifying to think of what a house with such power intended for her. Krypton was no more, and beyond Earth, she was no one. She had no political ties with any of the other known kingdoms; she wasn’t even actual royalty. All she had was the Kryptonian blood flowing through her veins, and the thought that they had plans for that, was chilling to the core.  
  
Her thoughts were momentarily disrupted by the shuttle coming to a complete stop.  
  
They had arrived.

 

* * *

  
  
The grand hall, once bustling with commotion, came to a complete and utter halt.  
  
Kara stepped out of the shuttle, and an ocean of eyes descended upon her, men and women of all ages, immaculately tailored suits, and colorful dresses; no one spoke, not even a hushed whisper, and it became so quiet Kara could feel her own nervous heartbeat pounding loudly against her chest.  
  
Then Mon-El stepped out beside her, and a passage was made as the crowd parted before them, as though a rock had been placed suddenly into the center of a river’s current.  
  
His hand pressed onto her lower back, an indication to proceed, and for some reason or another, the presence felt almost reassuring. He matched her stride as they crossed through the waiting crowd, and in her bright white dress, Kara was like a lonely comet, set adrift across an ocean of military black and Daxam red.  
  
The men and women she passed were flawless; chiseled jaws and striking features, porcelain skin and eyes of Daxamite blue, but the more she noticed, the more similar they seemed, like statues carved from the same piece of marble; so perfect, it was almost artificial.  
  
They eventually stopped in front of a long table, which Kara assumed seated the more powerful men of Gand. Kell Gand seated at its center, flanked on both sides by Zorgnith and Kar Gand, the latter who stood in their presence, a wide smile plastered across his lips.  
  
“My brother… and his bride-to-be!” Kar Gand announced loudly, his drink raised up into the air. “Welcome to the party!”  
  
Then all at once, as though someone had flipped a switch, the party roared abruptly back to life behind her—and as if at the mercy of a raging tsunami, Kara was swallowed up and swept away into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And for all the nice words and wishes on the previous chapter! I appreciate them, a lot! 
> 
> My favorite sentence so far is definitely: and in her bright white dress, Kara was like a lonely comet, set adrift across an ocean of military black and Daxam red. The imagery is that all the men in the party are dressed in black, and the women in red, and Kara being the only person in white, 
> 
> Next episode summary? - there's a feast, and maybe, just maybe, they dance. 
> 
> oh and since someone asked, if you'd like to prompt me, or just talk, I made a tumblr @shipwreckinabottle.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here with are with chapter 7 :) 
> 
> A huge thanks to @maybetomorrow and @Blacksoulwithredsoles for offering to help betaread my stories. 
> 
> random song suggestions? 
> 
> cover you - ali aiman feat. talitha tan  
> i only see you - benton paul  
> refuge (outro) - canyon city  
> like a funeral - erik jonasson

Kara fell backwards into the crowd as the four giant fire pits framing the grand-hall ignited simultaneously, the ceiling-high flames casting a garish orange over the flowing waves of red and black. The sounds of drums started to reverberate loudly across the hall, the emerging rhythms echoing like an invisible string casted over the crowd of hundreds, swirling them along unseen currents; and dozens of hands, their faces hidden amongst the ocean of movement, pulled Kara deeper, deeper into unseen depths.

The crowd swallowed her completely, like rough waves crashing together in a storm-brewed ocean, unrelenting, threatening to split her apart in all four directions. She was pushed to the left, then pulled to the right; she lost her balance sometime in, but the crowd’s momentum carried her onwards, unseen hands regaining her footing, setting her again on tumultuous paths, as though plucked into the center of rough rapids, leaving her no choice but to follow till the river’s end.

She wasn’t the claustrophobic sort, but even so, the experience was nothing short of terrifying; her heart thrummed against her chest as loudly as the unseen drummers; she was completely helpless, powerless, without a single form of control as to her movements, of whether she was even going in the direction of left or right or up or down, and only where the crowd led her, at their complete whim and mercy.

She tilted her head upwards, focusing onto one of the hanging chandeliers, trying to find equilibrium in the chaotic surge of bodies. It worked for a short second, until something dark descended overhead, causing her to stumble backwards, her eyes widening in alarm – until noticing the two approaching eyeholes, realizing that the object was nothing more than a harmless piece of fabric.

It settled gently over her face, the material soft like silk – a mask, from the looks of it.

Then the drums stopped and the crowd completely stilled, a quiet calm, and as Kara centered herself back onto her feet, she saw that every other Daxamite in her vicinity wore the exact same masks.

Then without warning, the crowd surged forward once more, sending Kara stumbling again through the mass of swarming bodies, their forward movements like a furious wave hurtling her straight towards shore. The current surged her forward, backwards, then coming to a complete and utter stop. Then It happened again, two more times, and on the third pause, Kara immediately started to push against the suffocating mass of bodies, trying all she could to break free of the crowd but to no avail. She was trapped and her attempts futile. All she managed was another second of quiescent reprieve before the crowd streamed forward once more, sending her into yet another disorientating stumble.

Red and black smothered her from all corners, like advancing pools of blood, drowning her within their murky depths; she couldn’t see, couldn’t even breathe. She stepped forward blindly into another person’s path, the collision sending her falling forward into the way of a hundred trampling feet.

The ground came up to meet her, but something else latched onto her elbow, fingers digging into skin as she felt herself pulled back up onto her feet.

The crowd stilled once more, and Kara found herself face to face with the person who now held her elbow in his arm – a stranger, his features concealed by the mask that he wore; eyes of Daxamite blue, as striking and as azure as all the other Daxamites around them two. 

Then the crowd surged forward again, but the Daxamite’s hand remained firm, steadfast, like an anchored buoy in the middle of an unrelenting storm; his hand held her still, giving her a sense of equilibrium in the chaotic surge of bodies, and for the first time, allowing her to keep her balance against the movement of the crowd.

When the crowd stilled again, Kara found herself pressed up against the person’s chest, her hands squeezing tightly around him as though holding on for dear life. She took a second to compose herself, releasing him from her grasp and, even with his identity still concealed by the mask he wore, the annoyed glint in the person’s eyes was one she would recognize almost anywhere.

_Mon-El._

Before she could ask how he’d managed to find her in the crazy surge of bodies, the crowd started moving forward once more – but this time, she followed along his guided path, stayed with his movements and, strangely, even in the middle of a hundred closely packed bodies, she found herself not knocking into a single one. She relaxed herself, no longer fighting against the currents, but letting Mon-El guide her instead, and suddenly, it was no longer like being trapped in violent rapids, but a gentle float down a lazy stream.

She flowed with the crowd, alongside the same rhythm, a little dot of white in a sea of red and black. With Mon-El’s guidance, she moved when the crowd moved, stopped as the crowd stopped, breathed as the crowd breathed, and surged forward when the crowd surged. And in a strange, almost peculiar way, it felt like the two of them were dancing in the ocean, their every little movement guided by the gentle ocean waves.

It was an experience unlike any other and by the time the two of them broke free from the crowd, an hour had already passed by like mere minutes. Kara staggered to the nearest table, collapsing onto her seat, completely out of breath. The crowd however, seemed barely affected, still moving as though they had only just begun; hundreds of people in the crowd moving like a single organism, a single heartbeat, swaying together to the drums’ beat, a movement of unity, an ocean of masked red and black. Kara watched in amazement; it was strangely beautiful.

“ _Rezrook_. It is how we start off _Rezarksorm_ ,” said Mon-El from behind her. “There is no one individual in the crowd—but all of the same mind. It is about letting go of one’s impulses and desires, to be released into something far greater than themselves—a place without prejudices or hatred, a simple unity of life, echoing from person to person until we’re no longer split, but whole.”

“How long does it go on?” she asked.

“It varies from person to person, some do it for hours, some days, some even weeks, suffering through starvation, exhaustion and sometimes, even death.”

“We... We have nothing remotely close to this on Krypton.” Kara knew how different the Daxamites were compared to her people; the Kryptonians had their mythologies and their deities, but were always more inclined towards science and progression, while the Daxamites with their religions and traditions.

She had heard plenty of Daxam’s religious congregations growing up, but it was the first time she’d seen one up close. The experience was surely… different from what she’d expected. “I wouldn’t have believed it if not for seeing it with my own eyes,” she said.

“For some of us, the Rezrook is merely tradition, a formality to our old gods.” Mon-El shrugged. “Kar Gand only intends to please the elders. Not all of us follow the old ways.”

“I see,” Kara nodded. It wasn’t easy imagining Mon-El—of all people—being the religious sort. But then again, it wasn’t like she knew much of him outside the little time they’d spent together and beyond what she’d been told.

Daxamites were usually a more pious race, but from what Mon-El had said, it would seem that not all of them shared the same sentimentality. “So, what’s next?” she asked.

“The feast,” said Mon-El, motioning to the next room.

 

* * *

 

Music filled the air and tables laden with delicacies from all corners of the galaxy lined the four walls; there were mountains of food, savory dishes as far the eye could see, whole animals still roasting and turning on spits; there was enough food in this room to feed entire armies.

Kara followed Mon-El into the feasting hall, making their way past dozens of revelers dancing and singing and feasting to their heart’s desires. The two of them stopped by the tables of food and piled their plates high before moving over to a nearby seat.

The other occupants on the ends of the bench got up and moved to another table as they sat, leaving the two of them alone.

They started with their food, until Mon-El said, “You’re uncomfortable.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. “There is nothing to fear. You are in no danger.”

Kara shook her head. “It isn’t that… I’m just… not used to being at the center of so much attention.” It was different from the attention she got as Supergirl, when her appearance was the least of her worries, when all that mattered was getting the people in danger to safety.

Her eyes darted briefly to the rest of the room, finding the lingering stares that had followed her every step since her arrival. “The way everyone is looking at me… not like I’m an actual living person, but… _entertainment… amusement…_ for their pleasure.”

“It is a natural reaction, nothing more,” he said, shrugging away her discomfort. “Not all of them have seen a Kryptonian before.”

“But it’s not like we’re much different,” she muttered, trying to distract herself from the stares by stuffing herself with food. “We all share the same ancestors.”

He did not respond and, after a long minute of silence, got up onto his feet.

She looked up from her food, wondering what he was doing. But before she could ask, he picked up her plate, along his own and left the room.

She quickly followed suit.

 

* * *

 

The doorway that led to the balcony was located at the far side of the hall, hidden from view by two large pillars of marble. Kara followed Mon-El outside, noticing how similar the balcony space was to her own: an exterior space, shielded by the same transparent plating that protected them from the outside atmosphere. The view however, wasn’t as magnificent as the one in her room; the silver lake was blocked on the other side of the dome, and instead, a pale, barren grey stretched ceaselessly into the horizon.

Mon-El closed the door behind them. The room was quiet, private, with no hushed whispers nor curious stares. Kara let out the heavy sigh she’d been holding for the longest time, feeling relieved with that fact that they were finally alone. Mon-El wasn’t the ideal companion she’d hoped for, but better him than the rest of the Daxamites out there.

They sat onto the floor and ate in silence, accompanied only by the behind view, until their plates were finally clean and their stomachs full. It had been a long day, and, as Kara hadn’t eaten since her encounter with the nobleman almost half a day before, she was more than grateful with the amount of food available at the feasting hall. Mon-El hadn’t said a thing, but she was sure he’d noticed the mountain of food she’d taken – it was at least twice the amount of his.

Afterwards, the two of them sat there quietly, their finished plates stacked onto one another’s.

Then Kara, feeling somewhat talkative after having her stomach filled with food, said, “During our shuttle-ride here, you said something about not letting outsiders know of Daxamlos. Does that mean that everyone here is from the House of Gand?”

He nodded.

“That’s… a lot of people.”

“The blood of House Gand runs strongest in my family.” His tone was adamant, like a person fiercely defending something important to him. “We are the purest bloodline.”

This was where they were most different; unlike Daxamites, her people cared little of bloodlines and lineages. Krypton was not a monarchy; there were no kings and queens, no princes and princesses.

Yet here she was, having dinner with one of the princes of Daxam. It wasn’t a situation any Kryptonian girl would had imagined herself in, much less someone like her.

“Then the nobleman from before,” she asked. “He is of Gand, too?”

He nodded. “He is… a distant relative, the blood runs weaker in his family.” Something dark flashed across his eyes. “He disrespected you. I would have taken his head, if not for your intervention. I still should.”

“Please don’t,” she quickly said. “I’m fine, really.” She wasn’t the sort of person that held grudges, even against someone like the nobleman, especially if it was out of vengeance.

His lips curled in obvious displeasure. “He insulted you. He raised his hand against you.” His tone darkened. “He… hurt you.”

She felt the anger in his words, but it reminded her of only dry anger, like a scratch on his car, or coffee split on his shirt. There was no sympathy in his voice, no concern. There was nothing kind about what he said, his words corrupted completely by maliciousness.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she shook her head. “I only cared about the boy’s safety. Everything’s fine now that I know he’s safe.”

“Still...” he argued.

She took a deep breath. “I’m not a scared little princess you have to protect.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“I know,” she said. “But this is nothing. I’m used to getting hurt. It’s part of what I do back on Earth.”

There was visible confusion in his voice. “What you do… is get hurt?”

“I mean as Supergirl,” she tried to explain. “I’m mostly invulnerable back on Earth because of the yellow sun’s radiation, so I try my best to help people in any way I can. But if I do get hurt, it’s always worth the pain if I manage to save even just one more life.”

He shook his head in disbelief, like he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You have all these powers…  you could have been a conqueror… a god… but instead you chose to do… public service?!”

She rolled her eyes. “Not everyone enjoys waging wars and subjugating planets with weaker defenses, you know.”

She subconsciously touched her hand to her chest. “Do you remember my house’s crest?”

He nodded.

“In Kryptonian, it stands for hope, for being stronger together. I live by my family’s crest, it’s something I believe in with all my heart.” Her eyes locked onto his. “So yes, you’re right. I do have the strength to take over Earth whenever I want to, but instead of being the embodiment of death, or war, or whatever you Daxamites revere, I’d rather be hope – something people can look up to instead, something that can change their lives for the better.”

He fell quiet for a moment, before saying. “Is that what you think of Daxamites? That all we do is wage war and death?”

“Well…” she stuttered. “It’s not like I’ve seen otherwise.”

His usual annoyed tone returned. “Clearly not.” He stood up onto his feet. “What do you know? In your sheltered little corner of the galaxy? The universe is vastly bigger than Earth and Krypton combined, _Princess_.”

She got up onto her feet as well. “I told you not to call me Princess!” Her fists clenched at the side of her dress. “Rao! You’re infuriating!”

“And you’re a child,” he snapped back, refusing to back down, the both of them ending up glaring at each other for the next few moments, neither willing to bulge.

An uncomfortable minute of silence passed, until she folded her arms over her chest and said. “We’re done eating, it’s time to head back to the party.”

He nodded and they left the balcony behind.

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Kara spent most of her time at the far end of the hall, watching the crowd flowing past in Rezrook. Every so often, a Daxamite noble would approach her, extending their hands and bowing in her presence. She would greet them back with an equally awkward smile and, not quite sure of what else to do, take their hands in hers and bow as well. Most of the Daxamites though, left her alone – some still with their lingering stares, but others, as though their attention span had already moved on, seemed to have already forgotten her by then.

Mon-El stood beside her the next few hours while she greeted the approaching Daxamites, occasionally introducing a family member or two. Other than the introductions however, they did not share any further words.

Kar Gand on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself; the party was held in his honor and, evident by the huge crowd gathered around him – he was the life of it.

Kara was glad with the amount of attention Kar Gand drew away from her, there was nothing she wanted nothing more than to shrink into a corner and wait out the rest of the party, the sooner the better. She hoped there wasn’t going to be a celebration for her and Mon-El’s betrothment, she couldn’t imagine herself in his place.

 

* * *

 

 

It was night when they finally left. There were no day-night cycles on the moon, but she could feel it, a sense of weariness that slowly crept into her over the long hours, along with the growing soreness in her ankles, no doubt caused by the uncomfortable heels that she wore.

The shuttle they arrived in was still waiting outside the hall, and with one long, final look at the still ongoing Rezrook, Kara lifted her dress and stepped into the vehicle.

The two of them were quiet on the journey back, a scene almost mirroring their arrival, until Kara could no longer stand how uncomfortable her heels were and started to fidget in her seat, the movement causing her dress to rustle – and in that quiet little space, it was as loud as setting off firecrackers.

Mon-El closed his eyes for a long second, then exhaled through his nose. “Just take them off,” he said.

“What?”

“Your heels,” he said. “If you’re uncomfortable, just take them off.”

“W-What? No? I’m not,” Kara stuttered, feeling a little embarrassed by the sudden turn of events. She had really wanted to take them off, but she felt weirdly defensive of her actions now that he mentioned it. “I’m not uncomfortable,” she said again, almost like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. “You’re clearly mistaken.”

He shrugged then looked away, his gaze already focusing onto something outside the side-windows, as though all he had wanted was to offer his suggestion, not as much as to caring what she would do next.

His reaction had her gritting her teeth in anger… because he wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t at all used to wearing such uncomfortable heels. Even back on Earth when she attended CatCo’s office parties, she would – much to her boss’s chagrin – show up in only the most comfortable flats.

While there were more dress options for her to pick from here, there were fewer alternatives in the case of heels, and while she did pick out the least uncomfortable pair she could find, it was still way higher than any pair she had worn back on Earth.

She stared at him for a moment, like she was daring him to say something else. She thought of ignoring him all the way back to the Gand Tower, but after another five minutes or so of impatiently tapping her leg against the shuttle’s floor, she decided that her defiance wasn’t at all worth the pain.

She unstrapped the heels and they clattered noisily to the floor, a huge sigh of relief following afterwards. Her hands pressed onto her sore ankles; her right leg was fine, but she grimaced at the left, noticing a slight swelling at the side where he had struck her a few days back. That injury had mostly healed by then, but the tight heels along with all the jostling and stumbling during the Rezrook seemed to have aggravated it all over again.

She tried to twirl her ankle around, to stretch the tight muscles, but there wasn’t much space in the tiny cabin for her to do so without lifting her entire leg up onto the front seat—which, as she was seated across from Mon-El, wasn’t something she’d like to do.

So, Kara sat there quietly, trying to alleviate the soreness in her ankle with the smallest movements, trying not to draw too much attention from Mon-El, when he suddenly shifted from his seat, their knees grazing as he leaned down towards her, his hands reaching around to the side of her ankles.

She tensed at the sudden contact, instinctively wanting to pull away, but strangely, with the memory of how carefully he had taken care of her ankle before still fresh in her mind, she ended up keeping completely still.

“W-What are you doing?”

He did not respond immediately, but his fingers pushed lightly into the side of her ankles, digging into the tensed muscles, the soft repeating motion quickly sending waves of relief up her calves. It was only a simple ankle massage, but after a long day in those heels, there was nothing better, and Mon-El seemed to know exactly what he was doing, his hands moving in slow, gentle circles, pushing into her sore tendons, easing away at the strained muscles.

It wasn’t until Kara heard the tiny mewl that slipped from between her lips did she realize the sound that she made. Her eyes immediately squeezed shut from embarrassment, waiting for a long awkward second to pass before peeking one open, only to receive no visible reaction from him at all.

He did not seem to have noticed, or perhaps, was just ignoring her as usual.

“So…” she started to say, trying her best not to further embarrass herself by distracting them both with conversation. “How are you so good with… this?” She cringed again, it sounded a lot better in her head.

“My mother, I used to…” he said, before pausing in mid-sentence. He fell quiet for a while, and when he spoke again, it was done so in a careful manner, like with each word carefully chosen. “When my father’s transgressions were discovered… I was brought to the palace with my mother. There were many… proceedings, as you may imagine, and my mother, who grew up without luxury, who never wore a pair of heels in her life, had to wear them for… _appearance’s_ sake, some of which lasted hours, some even days.”

His hands stopped for a second. “My mother never complained, never took her heels off, not when they ended up bruised and bleeding, not even when it became so severe she was bedbound for weeks.” There was no hiding the anger in his eyes. Then he swallowed, and his eyes softened. “So, I learned to help, to make things easier for her in any way I can.”

She nodded; there were a hundred different things running through her head, but none she could quite find the words for. So, she sat there quietly, her ankles in his hands until they reached their destination.

 

* * *

 

 

Lyra and X’Garr greeted them at the entrance. Kara exited the shuttle, still barefooted as Mon-El got out beside her. He passed her the shoes and without another word, left in the opposite direction.

She watched him leave before limping back to her own room.

It was late by then, her weariness coming back in full swing. She decided to take a quick shower before heading to bed, stepping into the bathroom, which lit lambently upon her arrival.

She turned on the shower, setting the heat to high before stopping in her tracks, her attention caught by her own reflection. She stood there for the longest time, staring at the mirror, staring at her own messy hair to the dress that she wore, unable to get Mon-El’s words out from her head.

_and my mother, who grew up without luxury, who never wore a pair of heels in her life, had to wear them for… appearance’s sake, some of which lasted hours, some even days._

She knew he was a bastard prince, not born of wedlock but Kell Gand’s affair with an unwed woman. But she had never imagined him in the way he had spoken of himself – as a young child taking care of his mother, someone unlike the spoilt little prince she had pictured him as, someone who came not from luxury, but poverty.

And the way he had talked about his mother being dressed up for appearance’s sake… the pain she saw so clearly in his eyes…

Was that the reason for his indifference in the clothing she had chosen? She had hoped to goad him by choosing the lesser of two dresses, but he had not made a single comment on her decision. She thought he didn’t care for what she wore, but now… after learning of the similar experience his mother went through…

She didn’t know what to think… and in the minutes soon after she stepped into the shower, gone quickly were those thoughts, much like her mirror’s reflection in the shower’s fog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose not to focus too much on Kara at the party because it's Kar Gand's party afterall. She's not supposed to be the center of attention, but merely a guest. 
> 
> Also, 
> 
> S L O W B U R N  
> L  
> O  
> W  
> B  
> U  
> R  
> N
> 
> Also2, 
> 
> if you'd like to see story-update-progresses, little snippets of next chapters, or if you'd like to talk about my stories, tv shows, or just life in general, you can find me @ shipwreckinabottle on tumblr.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here we are with chapter eight. 
> 
> Probably the longest I've ever took to update, but hey, on the bright side, it's the longest chapter ever :D 
> 
> Huge thanks as usual to @maybetomorrow for helping me beta this chapter. 
> 
> Random song rec - 
> 
> we are infinite - the lighthouse and the whaler  
> without you (acoustic) - the blind love  
> the story never ends (piano vers) - lauv

The week before her wedding, Kara received an invitation from Lady Rairsaval of House Gand—someone with whom she was neither acquainted nor familiar—to most unexpectedly, afternoon tea.  
  
Lyra however, knew all about Lady Rairsaval of House Gand.  
  
_“Lady Rairsaval, a woman of immense power and influence; once the matriarch of House Gand, she was the only female in all of Daxam’s history to hold a seat on the Court of Twelve._ _She is also the surviving widow of Kell Gand the First, mother of Kell Gand the Second, and grandmother to Kar Gand, Zorgnith Gand, and your dearly betrothed, Mon-El of Gand.”_ _  
_

 

* * *

 

Etched above the doorway was a rose covered in thorns.  
  
It matched the insignia on the invitation; it would seem that she was at the right place.  
  
Kara stood in the marbled corridor for the longest time, mentally composing herself for the approaching meeting. It was a strange feeling—to be so nervous for something as simple and as harmless as afternoon tea.  
  
The feeling reminded her of her internship interview at CatCo with Cat Grant herself; there was the same tensed knot in her stomach; the same feeling of needing to impress and receive the approval of whoever she was meeting—except she wasn’t here for a job, and Lady Rairsaval wasn’t an interviewer.  
  
With the alignment of the three Daxam suns only less than a week away, the reasons for Lady Rairsaval’s invitation seemed clear to Kara. _Her marriage to Mon-El.  
  
_ It didn’t surprise Kara; she supposed it was only natural for any grandmother to be interested in their grandson’s betrothal—regardless of it being a loveless, politically arranged one.  
  
Kara had always known that a conversation like this was coming, but she’d always thought it’d be with someone like Kar Gand or Kell Gand instead. She hadn’t imagined it being with someone like Lady Rairsaval, though it was surely an option she would prefer over the other two men of Gand, and somehow, it seemed as though Lady Rairsaval knew that as well.  
  
Even so, Kara knew it was going to be a strange, awkward conversation, discussing her marriage with someone she knew as nothing more than a stranger and, soon enough, a grandmother-in-law whom she’d never even met before.  
  
It took Kara another ten minutes of pacing around the hallway until she was ready.  
  
Then she pressed her hand onto the biometric scanner and the doorway slid open.  
  
She stepped inside—and found herself standing at the entrance of what seemed to be a private garden.  
  
Tall trees and flowers lined the room in a symphony of colors; the surface of the room covered with vibrant life, overflowing with nature; and, in its center, was a beautiful little pond, blossoming with water lilies in a dazzling orchestra of pink.  
  
It was as if Kara had stepped through a portal, leaving behind the dreary backdrop of Daxamlos and finding herself in the presence of a beautiful, vibrant world.  
  
The air in the room felt different too; lighter and more natural, it did not have the metallic tint of the artificial atmosphere present in the rest of the compound. Kara took a deep inhale, enjoying the sensation of natural air filling up her lungs, and exhaled with a happy sigh.  
  
When she noticed the soft grass that seemed to span the entire room, she reached down and took off her shoes, her toes wriggling barefooted into the dirt; the ground felt softer than she imagined, almost similar to what she would find on Earth.  
  
It all brought a smile to her lips. The air, the trees, the flowers, even the way her toes parted the little bits of soil beneath her feet.  
  
They all reminded her of home. They reminded her of Earth.  
  
The Gand compound was a beautifully decorated place, but there was something almost too artificial about its being, like a painting and not an actual living space; it was too perfect, too surgical. But the garden felt different, it felt _alive_ ; the nature within an orchestra of vibrancy, a sanctuary of warmth, hidden in a world of grey.  
  
Afterwards, still barefooted, Kara picked up her shoes and followed the tiny stone path deeper into the garden. She crossed the stepping stones placed across the pond and came upon an ancient willow tree, with leaves of icy white.  
  
Below the willow leaves sat an old woman before an ornate tea table, quietly sipping from a wooden teacup. The old woman placed her cup down as Kara approached; she did not stand, but gestured to the seat in front of her.  
  
“Come,” the woman said, her voice soft like silk, but firm – as much a greeting as it was a command. “Have a seat, child.”  
  
“Lady Rairsaval,” Kara greeted, bowing respectfully as she took her seat.  
  
Lady Rairsaval seemed even older than the pictures Kara had seen. The woman looked old and frail, her face etched by wrinkles far beyond Kara’s own years, and her hair as white as the willow leaves swaying gently above them. The tree seemed to be at least a few thousand years old, but somehow, it felt like Lady Rairsaval was the elder of the two.  
  
Lady Rairsaval nodded at Kara’s greeting and placed a small cup on the table. She sprinkled in a few blue colored herbs and then poured in steaming water from an ornate kettle, slowly, carefully, drawing in slow circles around the cup.  
  
It was like a performance, and Kara watched patiently, mesmerized by the older woman’s skill, until she placed down the kettle and—in one swift move, and with unexpected strength—sent the cup sliding across the table in Kara’s direction.  
  
Kara caught the cup, barely, the blueish tint of the tea swirling dangerously close to the edge of the cup. She stared at the drink for a long second, then back at her host, wondering if she was being offered a drink or if there was a Daxamite tradition she’d yet to encounter.  
  
The latter did not seem to be the case, as Lady Rairsaval poured herself a cup as well and drank from her own. Kara followed suit, a small sip at first, then another, immediately delighted with the taste. The tea was exquisite, unlike anything she’d ever tasted.  
  
“Thank you, Lady Rairsaval,” she said. “It’s delicious.”  
  
The older woman smiled, and Kara noticed—something the pictures did not translate well were Lady Rairsaval’s eyes, filled with wisdom, kindness, and the strength of someone who seemed decades younger than she actually was.  
  
“Just Rairsaval shall do,” she said.  
  
“But...”  
  
“There is no need for formalities, dear child,” said Lady Rairsaval, dismissing Kara’s protests with a wave of her arm. There was no small talk; she cut straight to the point. “Do you know why I’ve asked you here today?”  
  
Kara nodded. “My marriage to your grandson.”  
  
“Good, then we shall skip the pleasantries. They bore me horribly.” She took another sip from her cup. “Do you know of our customary procedures?”  
  
Kara nodded again. “Mon-El and I will travel to Daxam in a week’s time to register our unionship when Aorhs, Ioehs, and Yorhs are in alignment. I’m not sure of the exact details, but I was told it would be a simple procedure.”  
  
“Yes, the procedure is simple, but the effects are everlasting,” Lady Rairsaval lifted her hand, showing Kara her ring finger, where the markings of her bond were still clear.  
  
“I… understand,” Kara said; it took her a second to notice that the sight of Lady Rairsaval’s bond had her gripping so tightly onto her cup that her knuckles bore white. She immediately let go, but it seemed Lady Rairsaval had noticed.  
  
The other woman put down her cup. “Child,” she said, “I can feel your discomfort.”  
  
Kara wasn’t sure how to respond at first. It was apparent how uncomfortable the thought of being bonded to Mon-El had made her. But she did not dare speak out against it, especially if it would offend the grandmother of the very person to whom she was betrothed.  
  
But it seemed Lady Rairsaval could read her very thoughts. “You wish to hide your emotions, but your eyes betray you,” she said, almost like a gentle accusation. “Flickering like a timid candle in turbulent winds. Full of uncertainties, ambivalences… mistrust.”  
  
Kara knew it wasn’t a battle she could win; she was never good at hiding her emotions. She had tried adapting since her arrival on Daxamlos, but the façade she’d been wearing felt flimsy, weak, like it could shatter even under the barest scrutiny, and it seemed that Lady Rairsaval—still only halfway through her first drink—had already managed to see through her completely.  
  
Kara’s head drooped low. “I… I’m afraid,” she said, so softly it was a whisper.  
  
“Of the wedding?”  
  
“Not just the wedding,” Kara admitted. “But everything else that comes along with it.” She paused and took a small sip from her cup. “To be… married… to someone I barely know, who I do not love, for political purposes, half a galaxy away from home.  It’s not… it’s not something…”  
  
“Not something you would’ve wanted?”  
  
Kara nodded.  
  
“We don’t always get what we want, my child.”  
  
“I know,” Kara said. She took a deep breath, and it seemed that a bit of her earlier strength had returned. “And it’s a choice I’ll live with.”  
  
“That’s good,” the older woman smiled. “It might not seem so, but I was in your position once. Taken far away from home, afraid, terrified.” She paused to pour herself another glass. “But if you’re strong enough, then, like I had, you will survive.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lady Rairsaval spent the next twenty minutes guiding Kara through the details of the bonding ceremony, mainly her own experiences and thoughts, bits of information not found in the books Kara had seen.  
  
Kara listened attentively, hanging onto every word, wishing she had a notepad to write everything down.  
  
Afterwards, the conversation moved onto the wedding night itself.  
  
The first question caught Kara completely off-guard.  
  
“Are you a virgin?” asked Lady Rairsaval.  
  
Kara almost choked on her tea. “I’m sorry, am I a… what?” she spluttered, not sure if she’d heard the other woman correctly.  
  
It would seem that she had, as Lady Rairsaval then repeated herself, the question spoken as casually as the outside weather. “A virgin?”  
  
There was no mistaking the blush of pink that quickly flushed over Kara’s cheeks as she shook her head.

Sex had always been an uncomfortable topic for her, especially growing up as a Kryptonian teenager on a place like Earth. Eliza had given her the _talk_ when she was the appropriate age, but Eliza wasn’t Kryptonian; there were many questions her adoptive mother could not answer and, frankly, Kara herself was too embarrassed to ask. It wasn’t like there was any information on Kryptonian biology on the internet either, and the thought of asking Kal-El, her sweet, innocent Kal-El about… _sex_ … was just… _Rao, no_.  
   
“Is this an uncomfortable topic?” Lady Rairsaval asked, freeing Kara from her embarrassing thoughts.  
  
“It’s… a little bit,” Kara said, not daring to meet the older woman’s eyes. “Where I’m from, people… don’t exactly talk about such things with others, especially on their first meeting, or… at all.”  
  
“Interesting.” Lady Rairsaval sounded almost amused. “Earthlings avoid conversations on simple biological functions? I didn’t know Earth had such a prude, backwater society.”  
  
“Oh not at all, I mean, most don’t avoid such conversations,” Kara said quickly, trying to explain herself. “It’s just… it’s not a common topic in everyday conversation. And there are some people that are just… more comfortable than others about the whole topic.”  
  
Lady Rairsaval shrugged. “Or maybe it’s just the Kryptonian in you.”  
  
It didn’t sound like a mean-spirited comment. Kara smiled. “Perhaps.”  
  
“Then I need not remind you of your duties as a wife?”  
  
Kara’s smile immediately faltered.  
  
_Duties as a wife_.  
  
She wasn’t oblivious. She knew exactly what that meant since the day she had accepted Kar Gand’s offer. “I know what is to be expected of the marriage bed,” she answered steadily, but there was no mistaking the slight tremor in her voice. “I know what must be done.”  
  
“Good,” Lady Rairsaval said as she refilled their cups. Then, like it was a topic that no longer mattered, she said, “Let’s move on then, we still have much to discuss.”

 

* * *

 

 

_A week later_.  
  
For the past few hours, nothing existed in the visible spectrum of hyperspace but darkness.  
  
Then an alarm blared and, with sudden deceleration, the Daxamite transport ship lurched forward as stabilizers engaged back into normal space, the interior viewports flickering for a long moment as thousands of visible stars suddenly snapped into focus.  
  
Kara waited for the warning lights to dim before releasing the tethered harnesses of her seat and, in the absence of gravity, floated her way across to the spacious viewports, watching in wonderment as a myriad of celestial bodies passed them by on their steady approach towards the crimson giant ahead.  
  
Daxam was a vast planet of magnificent red; almost twice the size of Earth and in orbit by hundreds, if not thousands, of Daxamite warships; reminding Kara of a massive dormant army, waiting to conquer the entire galaxy under Daxam’s eternal rule.  
  
During their slow approach, Kara soon noticed the few dark lines stretching across Daxam’s surface that weren’t there in the pictures of the planet she’d seen as a child; the walls that separated the twelve royal houses of Daxam were like black blemishes upon a scarlet surface.  
  
She didn’t know how long she stood there by the viewports, mesmerized by the stars, when the ship’s co-pilot stepped onto the deck.  
  
“Your Highness,” the man said. “Please take a seat, it is dangerous to be in zero gravity during descent into Daxam’s atmosphere.”  
  
Kara nodded and made her way back to her harnesses.  
  
She looked back towards the viewports a final time.  
  
_Daxam_.  
  
She was finally here.  
  
The transport shuttle started to rumble as they started their descent toward Daxam’s surface.

 

* * *

 

 

There was nothing left on Daxam but rust.  
  
There were no oceans, no forests, no wildlife.  
  
Just rust.  
  
Rust was everywhere.  
  
From the soil beneath Kara’s feet to the faraway horizons; even in the moons that orbited the skies far beyond her eyes.  
  
Everything here was dry, humid, and covered in the same shade of dull red.  
  
The sight saddened her.  
  
Daxam wasn’t always like this.  
  
The red planet once resembled Earth, with massive oceans and large landmasses full of life.  
  
Daxam was once a lush, beautiful planet.  
  
Now it stood barren and sterile, scarred by centuries of civil warfare and ravaged by a complete depletion of all its natural resources.  
  
Ironically, it reminded Kara all too well of Krypton.  
  
Both planets ruined by its inhabitants. So perhaps, their two races weren’t all that different after all.

 

* * *

 

Daxam’s imperial palace was a colossal pyramid-shaped structure that stood at the center of where the twelve walls met; a massive city space spanned across the pyramid’s vast shadow, filled with thousands of spiralling towers and skyscrapers.  
  
_The neutral zone_.  
  
Kara learned that it was where most of Daxam’s inhabitants lived, right in the shadow of Daxam’s imperial palace, which had been vacant since the death of its previous monarch centuries ago. No royal family had occupied the palace’s halls since the start of the civil war, and no other would until a clear victor emerged—or no other remained.  
  
As the transport shuttle neared the spaceport, Kara started to notice how different the city was compared to the stark nothingness of Daxamlos; everything on Daxam seemed to bustle with constant activity, from the massive commercial signs flashing on the side of massive buildings to the hundreds of visible shuttles in transit, moving in and out of the spaceport.  
  
It wasn’t long before they arrived at the Hall of Coalescence.

 

* * *

 

 

The hall’s interior was beautiful and intricate in design, swathed in many layers of swirling white, with dozens of banners of different houses cascading down from the ceilings; a massive crystal chandelier hung in its center, coruscating in soft, ashen sparkles.  
  
It reminded Kara of a church. _A fitting image_ , she supposed.  
  
She noticed Mon-El had arrived before her; he stood by an erected podium at the center of the room, next to an old man in the extravagant robes of a priest. There were thousands of seats in the hall surrounding the little stage that housed the podium, but other than the three of them, the place was completely vacant; there wasn’t a single other soul in sight.  
  
It was so utterly quiet that Kara could hear every nervous thump of her heart, so deafening that they were like loud war drums signalling the charge into battle; _an apt comparison_ , she would think, for she doubted her marriage to Mon-El would hardly be a harmonious one.  
  
She walked up the stairs leading to the podium and stopped beside Mon-El.  
  
The high priest stepped behind the podium and gestured the two of them forward.  
  
She stepped forward nervously. Her body felt like it was on autopilot, going through the motions, the procedures she had practiced dozens of times over and over again before today.  
  
Her hands were trembling when she placed her palm onto the biometric slot on the podium’s surface, and for a long moment, she found herself wondering if the scanner would malfunction because of how sweaty her palms were.  
  
Then a long second passed, and it seemed that the scanner was still functioning properly, as the priest turned to Mon-El and nodded.  
  
Mon-El walked up to the podium and placed his hand onto the slot beside hers, his eyes not meeting her own; he was stoic in posture, his gaze steadfast. There came no words of encouragement, no reassurances that everything was going to be alright.  
  
Instead, he said his vows, his voice devoid of emotion; it wasn’t a proclamation of love, or forever-afters, but the conclusion of an agreement, the fulfilment of a contract. “I, Mon-El of House Gand, take Kara Zor-El of Krypton to be my lawfully wedded wife. From now, until forever.”  
  
Then it was her turn.  
  
She closed her eyes for a long second, and like the hundreds of times she’d practiced and recited in the long week leading up to the ceremony, said, “And I, Kara Zor-El of Krypton, take Mon-El of Daxam to be my lawfully wedded husband. From here, until eternity.”  
  
The second Kara said those words, she felt an immediate burn around her ring finger as the signifying bonds were etched into her skin. It felt like a soft prick, nothing more, like an ant’s bite, painful for a second and fading by the next.  
  
“In the name of Aorhs, Ioehs, Yorhs, I hereby declare your bonds forever binding, throughout all of time and space, from now until forever, and from here until eternity.”  
  
The podium retracted into the ground as the high priest stepped away.  
  
It was over.  
  
There was no kiss, no celebration, nothing else at all.  
  
_A simple procedure_. Lyra was right.  
  
“Congratulations,” the high priest said the three of them descended from the stage.  
  
Kara gave him a weak smile before stepping away and looking at her bond, the lines encircling her finger like a ring carved into skin.  
  
Then she looked at Mon-El, at his bond.  
  
The bonds were like fingerprints, unique to each individual, and like two separate pieces of a single puzzle, they were only whole next to the other. An entire galaxy of billions, and only he could complete her bond.  
  
It certainly did not feel like anything being worth congratulated.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day came and went.  
  
There was a feast, a small one, involving only Mon-El, her two companions, and a few of their accompanying guards.  
  
He promised her a larger feast when they were back at the Gand Palace, but such triviality was the last thing on Kara’s mind.  
  
As they ate, she fiddled with her ring finger underneath the table, feeling the smooth surface of the bond beneath her fingertips; the skin there no longer hurt – In fact, it felt like there was nothing there at all, like the mark had simply disappeared, like it had never even existed in the first place.  
  
But it was still there. That tiny little mark on her skin.    
  
The bond was so small, so insignificant, but Kara knew the true magnitude of its weight.  
  
Her life from this day on would no longer be the same—all because of this little bond right on her finger.  
  
She declined when the servants offered her food. She had no appetite.  
  
Mon-El, it seemed, ate little as well.

 

* * *

  
  
After the dinner, Lyra rented them a small motel room to spend the night.  
  
The establishment clearly had seen better days; the building was old and dilapidated, located in a more rundown part of town.  
  
“The city is only neutral in name,” Mon-El explained, as Lyra went to collect the keys. “It is best to stay out of sight until our return to Gand territory. There are eyes everywhere, and we do not know who they belong to.”  
  
“Why not travel back tonight?” Kara asked.  
  
“The lands beyond the neutral zone are a no-fly zone during nightfall,” he said. “We’re on the brink of another civil war. Everyone is more anxious than usual. Best to wait until morning than risk being shot down by accidental fire on the way back.”

 

* * *

 

The first thing Kara noticed stepping into the room was how small it was.  
  
Everything seemed to be at a bare minimum; a single bed, a small nightstand and, standing at the center of the room, with its faded floral decorations, was an old dusty lamp, as lonely as everything else was.  
  
There wasn’t even a bathroom, only the communal one back at the lobby.  
  
Without waiting for Mon-El to return with their bags, Kara kicked off her shoes and flattened herself against the bed, burrowing into the soft cushion and letting loose a long, tired sigh, muffled against the pillow case.  
  
She felt exhausted, like every little part of her was on the verge of a complete breakdown. Her day was hardly physical, just a few blocks of walking between the motel and the hall, but mentally, she felt completely depleted, like she’d gained a hundred years between the ceremony and now.  
  
At this point, she wanted nothing more than to crawl under the blankets and sleep the remainder of her life away. But she knew she couldn’t, not when there was still something else she had to do tonight.  
  
She touched her bond as Lady Rairsaval’s words repeated in her head.  
  
_Your duties as a wife_.  
  
Her fists clenched shut as a familiar sense of dread rose from the pits of her stomach; she felt like throwing up; she wanted to scream, to hit something, to run as far as she could and never look back.  
  
But again, she knew she couldn’t.  
  
Not with House Gand’s threat still looming over her head.  
  
If she ran—Earth would fall.  
  
She was certain of it now. She’d seen for herself; the hundreds of warships orbiting Daxam’s atmosphere—even a fraction of them would be enough to tear through Earth’s defenses.  
  
Unclenching her fists, she took a deep breath and tried calming herself down. She told herself that it wouldn’t even be the toughest situation she’d ever gotten herself into. She thought of all the villains she’d fought back on Earth—from metahumans to the escaped prisoners from Fort Rozz, even Kryptonians as strong as she was. Compared to them, her situation with Mon-El seemed barely a walk in the park.  
  
She wasn’t heading into danger tonight. She wasn’t preparing for a battle. She wouldn’t even get hurt. _Simple biological functions_ , like Lady Rairsaval had said. That was all.  
  
It wasn’t like she wasn’t prepared either. She knew from the day she’d accepted Kar Gand’s offer what must be done. She’d spent the whole of last month preparing herself for the wedding night, aware that the physical part was only half the battle; the mental adjustment was the difficult half, and in the weeks leading up to the wedding, she thought she’d managed to convince herself that it was something she had already come to terms with.  
  
But as the night crept slowly by, the more of a lie she realized it was, and the more her resolve started to crumble, the more conflicted, and the more afraid she became.  
  
It wasn’t long before Mon-El returned with their bags.  
  
Kara was deep in thought, not noticing his return until he sat down on the opposite end of the bed. The sudden movement caused her to jump up to her feet, her face as pale as if she’d seen a ghost.  
  
“I… I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I did not hear you come in.”  
  
He rolled his eyes and reached for a pillow, then, as if she was invisible, faced away and settled into his side of the bed.  
  
There came no further movement. A long minute passed.  
  
“What… are you doing?” she finally asked.  
  
He sighed, and said without turning towards her, “It’s a long day. What do you think I’m doing?”  
  
“Are you… umm… going to sleep? I… thought… I thought we were supposed to…”  
  
“We were supposed to what?”  
  
“To… sleep together?” she said uncomfortably.  
  
He sat upright and crossed his arms. “Of course we are going to sleep together,” he said, clearly annoyed with the direction of their conversation. “The bed is big enough for us two. Do you expect me to sleep on the floor?!”  
  
“That’s… that’s not what I meant,” she stuttered. “I mean… I thought we’re supposed to…”  
  
For some reason, she found herself lacking the courage to say the words, as though her inability to do so was the only thing keeping them from becoming reality.  
  
But it seemed as if he understood what she was implying. “No,” he said as he laid back down onto the bed; his tone was absolute, leaving nothing to interpretation.  
  
It wasn’t an answer she was expecting. “I… I thought…”  
  
“No,” he said again, interrupting her. And it was all he said, as though it was something so insignificant he couldn’t even bother to give an explanation.   
  
“Why?” she asked, before she could stop herself.  
  
“Because you are unwilling, and there is no honor in forcing compliance,” he said simply. “You may think us as brutes and savages, but that is not the Daxamite way.”  
  
Kara couldn’t believe her ears.  
  
She stared at him blankly for a few long seconds. “That means… we’re not going to…”  
  
“As I’ve said the last two times… _No_.”  
  
Her heart soared with relief. “I…”  
  
“And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not have sex with a Kryptonian either.”  
  
Her lips twitched. “What? What do you mean?”  
  
“Do I have to repeat myself?” he sighed. “I would rather not, as you say, _sleep_ with a Kryptonian.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because of the way your people view sex, like it is nothing more than a tool for reproduction. If you would treat it as a chore, I would rather not at all in the first place.”  
  
“What? That’s not what-“  
  
He interrupted her with an annoyed growl. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired, so let’s be honest here, _Princess_.” Without allowing her a chance to speak, he got up from the bed and stepped right in front of her, causing her to stumble a step back.  
  
“You. Will. Bore. Me.” He dragged each syllable out slowly. “That is as much known as the stars that circle our suns. And since you clearly do not wish to partake in such an act, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not as well.”  
  
Kara knew any sane person in her situation would had taken advantage of his pride and his “misconceptions” to avoid sleeping with him. But as usual, he seemed to know exactly which buttons to push to piss her off, and as much as she preferred the alternative, she couldn’t help but to defend herself, to prove him wrong.  
  
“You… You’re an idiot,” she pressed her finger into his chest.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You have no idea how incorrect, misguided, and factually unfounded your accusations are.”  
  
He seemed confused for a second. “Are you referring to what I said about Kryptonians being bad at… sex?”  
  
She nodded. “You’re not wrong in saying that some Kryptonians view sex as tools for reproduction, but not all of us feel this way. Some of us are actually good at… I mean, better at it than you think!”  
  
Kara could feel her cheeks starting to burn red; her argument sounded a lot better in her head. She was both angry and embarrassed.  
  
“Prove it then.”  
  
That stopped her completely in her tracks. She blinked, but nothing came to mind.  
  
“I knew it,” he said in a smug manner. “Typical Kryptonian. All talk and no action.”  
  
She gritted her teeth, clenched her fist and—without warning, pushed him backwards, flattening him against the cushion as she straddled his waist.  
  
He did not resist, but an eyebrow rose in bemused fashion, seeming not one bit threatened by their sudden change in position.  
  
“What are you doing?” he asked when they were finally still.  
  
“Trying to prove you wrong,” she said angrily.  
  
“By sitting on me?” he retorted sarcastically. “Hardly an effective techniqu-“  
  
Her hands balled into his chest as he spoke, digging into fabric and pulling him into an upright position, their faces suddenly only inches apart, so close she could feel his breathing, slow and controlled, a vast contrast to her nervous own.  
  
He fell quiet, like he was caught off-guard by the suddenness of her actions. Something changed in his eyes, the annoyance long faded, replaced by something that almost resembled curiosity, like he was sizing her up, waiting for her to make the next move.

She did not speak, but her eyes fell to his lips, and she was suddenly aware of how close the two of them were, and in their sudden proximity, it felt as if all her courage had evaporated, leaving behind only a timid girl afraid of making the next move.  
  
A long second passed. Then another.  
  
He finally spoke. “Is this… some sort of boring Kryptonian mating ritual?”  
  
“It’s not, I..”  
  
He rolled his eyes again.  
  
Her grip on his shirt tightened. “I… well…”  
  
She tried desperately to think of something to say, an excuse to use to get out of her current predicament, but before she could even form a coherent thought, his hands shot forward, latching firmly onto her waist and twisting forward. The momentum sent her tumbling forward as he rolled out from under her, their positions reversing in a quick second as he pinned her down instead.  
  
One second she was falling, and in the next, she was trapped beneath his weight, an arm locked above her head. It took her a second to realize how hard she was breathing. “W-What are you doing?” she gasped, desperately trying to regain her composure, any semblance of control.  
  
She couldn’t move at all; his hand had hers in a firm lock, not forceful enough to hurt, but strong enough to restrict further movement. Her other hand palmed into his chest, instinctively, like she was preventing him from moving any closer.  
  
He leaned in, and his words were warm against her neck. “You wanted to prove me wrong? Well, here’s your chance, _Princess_.”  
  
She knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was mocking her again. Trying provoke her into making a mistake. But there was nothing she could do in response. She was trapped; helpless, at his complete whim and mercy.  
  
“Backing out, _Princess_? Afraid?”  
  
She did not want to admit it, but he was right. Her head turned away, unable to meet his eyes.  
   
His free hand clasped onto the side of her face and forced back her gaze.  
  
Then he leaned forward, and as her breath caught, her eyes came instinctively to a close.  
  
A long second passed.  
  
Then another.  
  
His weight shifted upwards, and a soft whisper, barely lingering, lips pressed against her forehead.  
  
“ _Gsvsefrerev._ ”  
  
Her eyes jerked open as he slid off her.  
  
_It was Kryptonian._  
  
It took her a long moment to process the word he said, and when she did, she shot upright, surprised at his choice of words.  
  
By then, he already had his head down on a pillow, his body facing away from her, his back a slow rise and fall with each steady breath he took.  
  
It seemed as though he was already fast asleep, as easily as any other night before this.  
  
She moved closer to him. There came no response, no indication that he was even awake.  
  
“Umm…” she said softly, not sure if he could hear her.  
  
When there still came no response, she said it anyway. “ _Vsvelrerev_.”  
  
It was the Daxamian equivalent of the word he’d said in Kryptonian.  
  
_Good night_.  
  
It took Kara a long time to fall asleep, but unlike the nights leading up to the wedding, she slept well that night.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, if you'd like to see story-update-progresses, little snippets of next chapters, or if you'd like to talk about my stories, tv shows, or just life in general, you can find me @ shipwreckinabottle on tumblr.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand onto chapter 9 :)
> 
> Huge thanks as usual to @maybetomorrow for helping me beta this chapter.

Dozens of eyes were drawn towards the spacious viewports as the Daxamite transport-class shuttle dropped out of hyperspace and into Daxam’s orbit, bringing the vast red planet into view. Some of the passengers remained in their seats and marvelled at the sight, while others, releasing their harnesses and floating across the length of the passenger’s deck for a better look, clamoured up against the viewing screens, their faces plastered against the glass, little wisps of condensation forming against the surface with each excited breath.

There was a visible air of excitement filling the passenger’s cabins, flushed full with exhilaration—from visiting foreigners to travel weary Daxamites on their last trek home, but in a private cabin at the back of the ship, a lone passenger remained in his seat, quiet and uninterested in the outside spectacle.

The lone passenger did not leave his cabin until long after the ship’s descent. He waited until the departure of all other passengers before stepping off the ship, his heavy boots crushing into rust, leaving behind deep imprints on his way towards the immigration checkpoints; he held no luggage of his own, and wore an air-filtration mask over his face, concealing his features.

Dozens of armed guards stood vigilant at the immigration counters, but none gave the masked man a second glance as he walked up to the booth and handed the inspection officer a forged identity chip.

The inspection officer took the chip and slid it into a handheld scanner, which beeped in acknowledgement after a quick second. “Business or pleasure?” asked the officer.

“Business,” replied the masked man, his voice distorted by the filters in his mask.

“What sort of business?”

The masked man did not answer, but instead slipped a credit chip into the inspector’s booth.

The inspection officer picked up the credit chip, his eyes going wide upon further inspection of its value. “Just business it is!” he said with a huge smile as he slid the identity chip back to the masked man. “Welcome to Daxam! May our gods watch over you with great fortune!”

 

* * *

 

It was late in Daxam’s night cycle when the masked man reached the lower levels of the Neutral City’s Undergrounds. While the surface levels were known for their grandeur and their luxuries, the underground levels were known more for being overran with rampant poverty and crime; it was the center of Daxam’s unspoken vices, from casinos to drug dens to brothels to all sorts of illegal subsurface establishments; there were no pleasures deemed too exotic to be found in Daxam’s Undergrounds.

The place was like a maze, filled with dark alleyways and endless corners; populated by the poor, the desperate, the addicted; and the deeper he descended, the worse became those vices, and the stronger the stink of hopelessness and despair, an intoxicating stench, crawling through his air-filters and sticking onto his skin, almost as though emanating from the very streets themselves.

The masked figure passed by hundreds of men and women of all species and sizes, but none batted an eye; the lower levels were a place where no man gave a stranger another look, lest he lose an eye. Everyone minded their own business, for it was a dog-eat-dog world where only the most desperate, the most violent survived.

As he descended the levels to his destination, he passed by a crowded podium, his path blocked by a gathered crowd. On the stage were slaves of all kinds, brandished together in heavy chains, bound and naked, hurdled together by slavers wielding shock batons.

The partition around the slaves did little to shield their naked bodies from the incessant smog; the air below Daxam’s surface was near unbreathable, long polluted by the ancient harvesters deep within the planet’s core. The rare minerals had long ran out, as did the lives of those operating the ancient machines, but even after thousands of years had passed, when nothing remained of Daxam’s ancestors but stardust, the poisonous air still remained, a remnant of Daxam’s past mistakes, forever haunting the futures of their children.

There was a young humanoid girl on stage, barely of age, separated from the rest of the slaves, pulled away from her wailing mother and forced down in front of the crowd, as cheers and jubilant cries soon turned to groans and curses from those that would lose the auction that quickly came to pass.

The masked figure waited for the crowd to disperse before continuing his journey onwards, his destination an inconspicuous establishment located on one of the bottom levels. The building was hardly extravagant, a small dome-shaped building with faded signs and tinted windows, mirroring most of the other illegal establishments on this level. But the exterior was deceptive, for the building was not another derelict drug den, but a high-end club, serving only those with the deepest pockets and the darkest of desires.

The masked man entered the building and headed in the direction of the private VIP rooms, a sense of familiarity in his movements, much like a frequent visitor himself.

There was only one room in use that night.

He knocked.

“Come in,” someone said.

He entered the room.

There were already three other men inside.

The first two seemed to be mercenaries from the heavy weaponry strapped to their sides and the thick weather-enduring cloaks they wore. The other man however, donned an immaculate suit lined with dozens of beautiful gemstones, and the brooch pinned above his chest was in the shape of a roaring lion, its maned crafted from delicate lines of golden silk.

The royal crest of House Zeironn—a nobleman.

The masked figure settled into his seat as the nobleman activated the holodesk in front of the other three men, bringing up a high-resolution image of a young female humanoid.

“I’m told you three are the best at your jobs, so I’ll skip straight to the point.” The nobleman swiped at the image and it changed to the floorplans of a motel building. “Smash and grab job. Low resistance. My sources tell me they’re travelling light.”

“Conditions?” asked one of the mercenaries. His tone was completely professional, as though it was a job he’d done a thousand times before.

“Alive and unharmed,” the nobleman answered. “I accept nothing less.”

The mercenaries studied the blueprints quietly. “Then we best avoid the motel,” one of them finally said. “Too many unknown factors. It is better to target them on-route to the spaceport. Open space where we know the terrain better. Lesser chance of unpredictability.”

The nobleman shrugged. He didn’t seem at all interested in the planning. “You’re the experts,” he said. “I’m the one with the credits. Do as you wish.”

The mercenary turned to his companion, then to the masked man—who had still not said a single word thus far. “Thoughts?” Neither men replied, but both were without complaints, seeming to have agreed with the plan.

The nobleman clasped his hands together. “Perfect then. Everyone is in agreement!” He placed a briefcase onto the table, revealing the stacks of credit chips within. “Now onto my favorite part.” He had the most excited grin, as though the conversation had finally moved to the part he’d been waiting for the whole time. “Let’s talk payment!”

The mercenary looked at his partner. “Five-hundred thousand credits in unmarked chips. Two-fifty before and two-fifty upon competition.” His partner nodded in agreement.

The nobleman turned to the masked man. “Same rates?”

The masked man nodded.

The nobleman fell quiet for a moment, before reaching underneath the desk and procuring two more briefcases. “How about a counter offer?” He slid the briefcases across the desk, revealing the stacks of credit chips within. “Five million now—”

The mercenary whistled.

“—and five more upon completion of the task—each.”

There came no complaints from any of the men.

The nobleman smiled. “House Zeironn believes no greater motivator in the known universe than the power of credits, and as you all may well know, credits are never an issue for those of House Zeironn.” He clasped his hands together. “So… hurry up with your mission, and rest assured the second half of the payment will be waiting for your return.”

The three other men got up from their seats and started to leave the room, when the masked man stopped suddenly, blocking the other two’s path. He did not open the door, but instead, the scanner flashed red as the room was locked from the inside.

“What are—” was all the first mercenary managed as the hidden blade in the masked man’s cloak slipped downwards into his hands and slashed across the mercenary’s throat. Blood spluttered from the wound as the mercenary fell backwards, fingers clutching desperately at his wound.

His partner reached for his weapon, but the masked man was already moving, taking advantage of their close-quarters, lunging forward and plunging his knife into the second mercenary’s chest before the man could even fully draw his weapon. The momentum sent the two of them crashing downwards, where the masked man extracted his blade with a spurt of blood—and with a swift stroke, sliced the fallen mercenary’s neck open.

“W-what are you doing!?” The nobleman stumbled backwards, his mouth gaping wide at the scene before him. Barely five seconds had passed since the masked man drew his blade, and now the other two mercenaries were already dead on the ground, the floor seeping with their blood. “W-Who put you up to this!?”

The masked man did not respond, his boots trailing blood as he stepped towards the nobleman.

“I… I’ll pay you double! Triple! Quad-Quadruple!” the nobleman squealed. “I’ll pay you whatever you want! Enough credits to buy a castle! Even a planet!” When none of that seemed to work, he pointed at his sigil. “Do you know who I am!? I’m from House Zeiron, I’m a noble, I’m-”

The blade’s edge tore through the exposed flesh of the nobleman’s throat, instantly silencing him. He crumpled down to the floor, clutching at his wound, eyes twitching in desperation, like he couldn’t believe what was happening to him. “W-Wh… Wh arr yu…” he gasped, unable to get the words out from the hole in his neck.

The masked man removed his mask, and the nobleman’s eyes went wide.

“Gan… Ga!” Then, as if he’d finally accepted his fate, the nobleman heaved a final breath and fell to the ground in a last, heavy sigh.

When Kar Gand left the establishment with the three briefcases, his cloak was stained crimson with blood. But no one gave him a second look, not on this level—there was nothing out of the ordinary.

 

* * *

  
  
Kara woke to the soft trickle of Daxam’s three suns slipping through the motel’s binds; it was a slow, gradual awakening, the sunlight’s caress a warm pull – further, further from pleasant dreams soon forgotten.

Blankets slipped to the ground as she sat upright, fingers curling back her dishevelled locks, confused momentarily by the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. An arm reached towards the entering sunlight; warmth curled around her fingertips, around her bond, bringing back memories of the night before.  
   
_It was the day after her wedding._

Kara’s head snapped to the left, so quickly that for a second she was afraid it might tear right off, half expecting to find Mon-El still asleep beside her. But to her relief—he wasn’t. His side of the bed was empty, and she was alone.

She heaved a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what she would’ve done otherwise. _Wake him up? Sit next to him until he does?_ Either way, there was a whole world of awkwardness and embarrassment Kara was glad to have avoided. But even so, she found herself wondering where Mon-El went; finding herself alone in a small motel room on the morning after her wedding night wasn’t on the top of her “most expected” list.

After a long second of silence, Kara placed her fingers onto Mon-El’s side of the bed. There was still a bit of warmth—which meant Mon-El couldn’t have been gone for long. Perhaps he left for a shower. Or breakfast. Or maybe there was some sort of wedding procedure that still needed to be taken care of.

Regardless, Kara was grateful of the little bit of reprieve granted from his temporary absence. Being alone gave her time to think, and she found herself staring at Mon-El’s side of the bed for the longest time. It was a strange feeling; the two of them had slept together, but as Mon-El had not forced her to consummate their wedding, nothing had happened beyond the literal sense of that word.

Mon-El had made it clear before that their relationship was nothing more than a political wedding. But Kara also knew that if he had a sudden change of heart, there was nothing else she could’ve done but offered complete compliance. Mon-El had the power to do whatsoever he wished, and she was glad it wasn’t something he’d willingly held over her the night before.

But even with Mon-El’s clear lack of physical interest, Kara knew that the two of them still needed to keep up with appearances—especially in their political circles—she assumed it was the whole reason she was brought here in the first place. There were many things she would have to become accustomed to as his wife, and sharing the same bed was only the first of many.

_His wife._

It was strange to think of herself that way. Kara had always thought of herself as a dreamer, a romantic; someone who grew up dreaming of falling in love with their soulmate, having the perfect wedding, and starting a family with the most beautiful children. Though most of her dreams were set aside when she decided to embrace her birth-right as Supergirl, it wasn’t as though she’d completely given up all hope of attaining those dreams… someday.

But that was until she’d met him. _Mon-El_. Someone who couldn’t be any more different from the man she’d always dreamed of marrying—and someone she married.

Kara’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an unlocking door.

She shot up to her feet as Mon-El stepped into the room, her posture rigid, screaming uncertainty; she didn’t know what to do; she wasn’t sure if she should greet him differently, or even at all.

Mon-El on the other hand, seemed completely at ease; his hair was a little wet, as if he’d just came out from the shower, and he held a plate of food in each hand. The door closed behind him as he stepped past her and pulled out a folded desk which he set up in front of the bed.

“Breakfast,” he said, as though it was the most normal thing for them in the world.

Kara sat down on the bed, their legs awkwardly inches apart. Again, Mon-El did not seemed to mind, or perhaps even cared, as he started immediately on his food, which resembled some sort of green slime which—if Kara had to be honest—wasn’t the most appealing meal she’d seen.

She swallowed and nervously lifted the cover of her plate, but much to her surprise, there wasn’t another weird lump of slime, but instead a perfectly normal-looking sandwich. She quickly took a bite, then another, and another. It wasn’t anything spectacular, the ingredients resembling some sort of alien egg and tomatoes, but with how little she ate the night before, she was starving—and the food tasted delicious.

The two of them ate in silence, and soon finished their meal.

“Is the food adequate?” Mon-El asked afterwards.

Kara nodded. “It is delicious. Where did you get it?”

“The hotel seemed to lack proper commodities, but the chef seemed competent enough dealing with Earth cuisine which I requested,” Mon-El explained.

Kara was suddenly reminded of the way Mon-El had spoken her language the night before; Kryptonian was a hard language to learn, and it was easy for a native speaker to spot the clear differences between an amateur and someone who had spent time practicing their language, and from his intonation of the word, it was clear to her that he did. It was something he had practiced _specifically_ for her, just like how he’d specified her meal with the motel’s chef.

 _Thoughtfulness_ was the first word which came to Kara’s mind, but even then, she couldn’t help but admit how strange it was to describe Mon-El with such a word, and after the cold and indifferent way he’d treated her for the past few weeks, it was even harder picturing him going out of his way to do something for her.

But then again, Kara knew there could be another explanation. Maybe Mon-El thought that she was a weakling who needed to be coddled. Or maybe Mon-El was treating her like a child because it was how he saw her. Kara could think of a thousand more of such reasons, and the more she thought about them, the more it seemed to fit his personality, and the more likely those theories became.

And she didn’t like it one bit, because the last thing she wanted was for him to think of her as a child. “I would’ve been fine with Daxam food you know,” she said. “I’m not a picky eater.” She stared at the little bit of slime leftover on his plate. “I… I’m fine with e-everything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied flatly, as if he couldn’t care less.

There were a few minutes of awkward, uncomfortable silence.

“So… are we going to the Gand Palace today?” Kara finally asked. She knew there were formalities to attend to now that she was married to a prince of Gand, though she didn’t know where to start or what it would even entail. Her research back on Daxamlos had not borne fruit; there were hundreds of political marriages in Daxam’s historical records lasting thousands of years, but it seemed none were quite the same. There wasn’t a guideline or a blueprint to Daxam’s arranged marriages; the stipulations were delineated by the treaties offered to the two parties, and hardly two were ever the same.

Though in Kara’s case, she did not even know about the details of her own marriage. Neither Mon-El nor Kar Gand had revealed their intentions for her betrothment to the House of Gand, and it wasn’t like she had a say in any of its matters either. She’d asked about it before, but neither men of Gand seemed interested in revealing the reasons for forcing her hand in marriage.

Now that she thought of it, she was sure the answers to her questions could be found at the Gand Palace. It was a trip she’d been anticipating, and dreading, since the first day.

But it seemed that she would have to wait just awhile longer.

“No. Not for a few more days at the least,” said Mon-El. “The Royal Airlanes are on lockdown.”

“Lockdown?” Kara asked.

“Temporary safeguards. The body of a Daxam nobleman was found mutilated on one of the lower levels of Daxam. No culprit has been found, and while the evidence points to a robbery gone wrong, there are still many accusations and rumours floating around saying otherwise.”

“That’s… horrible, and what do you mean by ‘otherwise’?”

“That it might’ve been the work of another noble family, made to seem like an accident and not a planned assassination,” he explained. “Tension between the royal houses have been rising steadily for months. The shadow of war looms, and such safeguards are the only way to prevent an escalation. To allow for cooler heads. No one wants to risk a royal shuttle shot down by a warring family’s defenses in fear of a pre-emptive attack.

Kara nodded slowly. “That makes sense.” Then she asked. “Is it… someone I know?”

“It is not a member of House Gand,” Mon-El replied, as if he was reading her mind. “But a member of House Zeironn.” He did not seem the least bit sympathetic. “I am not surprised.”

Kara knew little of House Zeironn outside of them being one of Gand’s eleven other rivals for the Daxam throne. “What do you mean by that?”

“House Zeironn owns a massive influx of Elitihiumea refineries in the outer Orzarkaz sector. It makes them one of—if not—the wealthiest amongst all of Daxam’s royal families.” There was no mistaking the clear displeasure in Mon-El’s voice. “And also—the proudest. Often having no qualms flaunting their wealth. Not something anyone should do on the lower levels. It paints a huge target on your back. It isn’t difficult to assume he got killed by his own foolishness.”

“I see. Does that mean we’re stuck here until the safeguards are removed?” she asked.

Mon-El shook his head. “Only the Royal Airlanes are placed under restriction. Regular traffic is unaffected. We’re free to leave Daxam if we so wish.”

“So… are we leaving?” Kara certainly hoped that was the case. She didn’t want to spend the next few days trapped inside this little motel room.

“We are,” answered Mon-El. “To one of Larsheai’s moons, in the Garlasi section fifteen lightyears away.”

It wasn’t a place Kara heard of before. “Is it another one of Gand’s bases?” she asked, feeling a little bit disappointed. She didn’t want to return to Daxamlos either, or at least another version of it.

“No. It’s a tourist destination.”

That wasn’t something Kara expected—at all.

“Tourist destination?” she repeated, not quite believing what she’d heard. Even the words sounded strange coming from his mouth. “As in… like a place that people… visit… for like… leisure and enjoyment?”

He looked at her strangely. “Does it have a different definition on Earth?”

Kara quickly shook her head. “No. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting us to go on a… holiday?”

“I assumed it was something you’d prefer rather than stay here for the next few days. But if I’ve assumed wrongly and you’d rather stay, I can-”

“No!” Kara injected, a little too quickly. “I mean… I don’t mind going. Not at all. It’s just… not what I’d expected.” That was true. “When are we leaving?”

“In an hour’s time,” was the answer.

 

* * *

  
  
After a long shower and a change of clothes, Kara left the motel, following Lyra to the spaceport where Mon-El was waiting with their tickets. After a ten-minute trek through immigration, they stepped onboard their private airship, and within another minute, left Daxam behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's definitely a lot more plot progression than fluff / character development in this chapter. 
> 
> also, did someone say unintentional honeymoon? 
> 
> as usual, if you'd like to see story-update-progresses, little snippets of next chapters, or if you'd like to talk about my stories, tv shows, or just life in general, you can find me @ shipwreckinabottle on tumblr.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter here we come! :) 
> 
> As usual, a huge thanks to my beta - maybetomorrow.

The view of space was something Kara could never quite get enough of; her face was plastered to the viewing ports as the Daxamite transport shuttle broke free of the loud atmospheric compressions and ascended into orbit – into the utter silence of space. The outside view reminded her of a darkened landscape, much like a painted canvas swashed upon with broad strokes of black, the viewing screen her frame.  
  
Daxam became smaller and smaller in the background and —with the activation of the ship’s slipstream drives—disappeared along with the constellation of stars in its backdrop, engulfed in less than an instant by the sheer blackness of hyperspace, like a demon from the dark, swallowing everything in its path.  
  
Kara shivered; unlike the view she could never get enough of, the jumps were something she could never get used to. There was always a strange coldness in the activation of the gravity drives, a dull chill spreading through her extremities, as though she was dunked straight into a vat of freezing water and all the heat was drained out of her in a single instance.  
  
She couldn’t find a better word to describe the feeling other than that it felt “wrong.” It never lasted more than a single second, and like all of the times she’d experienced the chill before—the second passed—and everything felt normal once more.  
  
The strange sensation was something she’d asked Lyra before, and the Coluan girl assured her that it was nothing more than a common anomaly in deep-space travel. _You’ll get used to it sooner or later,_ Lyra had said. _Don’t worry too much, everyone reacts differently during their first few jumps. You should’ve seen X’Garr during his first. Or… maybe not. Violently puking in the absence of artificial gravity is not a pretty sight.  
  
_ It wasn’t something Kara wanted to picture, but when she did, she became a lot more appreciative of the artificial gravity present onboard the ship Mon-El picked for their journey. She knew that most ships weren’t outfitted with onboard-gravity modules, the price of such technology was worth a few small moons; the modules were meant for space stations and important outposts, not personal transport shuttles.  
  
Which meant that the cost of the _Spacefarer_ must had been exorbitant.  
  
She had no doubt about it. There were astronomical differences between the _Spacefarer_ and the ships she’d traveled on before, such as the battleship which brought her to Daxamlos, and the transport shuttle which brought her to Daxam; gone were the dull walls and steel floors, replaced by polished marble and carpeted walkways, with dozens of mechanical butlers waiting for orders at every corner; the ship screamed _luxury_ , and to Kara’s surprise—there was even a pool.  
  
A pool in space. Even the idea sounded ridiculous. _One of the many perks of marrying into the royal family_ , she supposed. Though she did stop by the pool on her way back to the cabin to take a look—it was even bigger than she thought.

 

* * *

 

When Kara returned to her cabin afterwards, Mon-El was there.  
  
He looked up when she stepped inside, but, as usual, there came neither greeting nor acknowledgement; his attention returned to the datapad on his lap, again, like she was nothing more than a stranger in his way.  
  
Kara was somewhat used to the impassiveness by now. She took her seat across from Mon-El and brought up her own datapad. She knew it was at least half a day’s journey, which meant she had more than enough time to kill.  
  
She typed the name of their destination into the search bar. After a few minutes of browsing, however, there wasn’t much she found, other than that the resort was located not on Larsheai itself, but on Zarshael-3, the only inhabitable moon amongst the fifteen astronomical bodies orbiting the giant gas planet of Larsheai. From what little she gathered, it seemed that the moon was one of those private tropical islands that celebrities back on Earth would visit when trying to avoid the public.  
  
With nothing else to do, and realizing that she had been subconsciously fingering the bond on her ring finger for the past few minutes, Kara decided to read up on some marriage laws.  
  
It was at least a few hours later when she jerked up suddenly in her seat. “A-ha!” she exclaimed and pointed to the page opened on her datapad. “Through the process of bonding in the presence of Aorhs, Ioehs and Yorhs, a man and woman are no longer separate, but unto one as husband and wife in the eyes of Daxamite law,” she read out loud, holding the datapad uncomfortably close to Mon-El’s face. “And if I’m reading section five-point-two correctly… it says that you are legally obligated by Daxamite law to address me as… _wife_!”  
  
Mon-El did not look up from his datapad, but Kara could almost feel his scowl growing from across the room. “Yes, that is what the law says,” he said stoically.  
  
“So, that means… no more of that condescending ‘ _princess_ ’ stuff,” she responded smugly. He did not answer, so she goaded him even further. “You’re going to have to start addressing me by _wife_ now, right? Or are you one of those mushy, sentimental types?” She gasped in exaggerated fashion. “Are we going to give each other pet names!?”  
  
“I will do what must be done,” he replied without missing a single beat, his expression remained inscrutable, but she knew he was fuming on the inside, which made it all the more better. “Even if it is to address you as… _wife_.”  
  
“How about a reprieve?” Kara asked when she was finally content with how uncomfortable Mon-El was getting. She put down the datapad and inched closer to him. “I know it’ll kill you to address me as _wife,_ so how about something simpler?”  
  
“What are you suggesting?”  
  
There came a victorious smile. “Kara,” she said. “Simple as that. Just Kara. We’ll drop the formalities. I’ll address you as Mon-El, and you can call me Kara instead of _wife_.”  
  
He closed his eyes for a long second. “Fine.”  
  
There was a playful twinkle in Kara’s eyes. “Fine who?”  
  
Mon-El inhaled and held that breath for so long she was half expecting him to turn into a human balloon when he finally said, “Fine, Kara.” Her name felt a little strange coming from him, and it was much later when Kara realized that was because it was the first time he’d said her name, at least to her anyways.

 

* * *

 

Kara must had fallen asleep, because when she woke, the _Spacefarer_ had already landed on Zarsheal-3. She immediately jumped out of her seat, barely able to contain her own excitement as she grabbed her belongings and rushed out of the room, almost knocking over X’Garr—who had been standing guard outside her cabin—on her way to the exit.  
  
Warm sunlight greeted Kara as she stepped out of the ship and onto the docking port.  She immediately found herself wobbling out of balance, stumbling forward as a strong grip latched firmly onto the back of her biceps.  
  
Mon-El sighed as she found her balance. “Watch your step,” he said as he released her. “The gravity here is different from Daxam.”  
  
Kara nodded, feeling a little embarrassed by her almost-stumble. She planted her feet firm into the ground, took a step, then another. The re-adjustment was instant, the act as common and as trivial as adjusting one’s watch when visiting a different time zone.  
  
Accounting for gravitational differences was a familiar habit back when she was on Krypton, but it seemed as though those habits had dropped off during her long stay on Earth and its singular gravity. It was also something Kara knew she’d have to get used to again, lest she take an embarrassing spill in front of an important audience.  
  
“—there’s also the,” Mon-El started to say, but did not manage to finish when Kara felt herself starting to wobble again. She grabbed onto the nearby railings for balance, wondering if she had done something wrong, or that her body still wasn’t accustomed to the gravity, when she realized everyone else on the planet was in the exact same position as she was, and that it was the _platform itself_ that was wobbling.  
  
Then, the platform stopped wobbling—and business returned to usual; workers proceeded with what they were doing before, and conversations resumed from where they had been before the interruption as though the entire tremor was nothing more than a small, insignificant occurrence that no one seemed to mind or care.  
  
Kara looked towards Mon-El, who motioned towards a nearby window.  
  
She peeked her head out—and her breath caught as ocean winds lifted her hair and the salt spray lashed against her face. _An ocean, that’s why the platform wobbled._ The waters beneath her foamed against the platform, so deep blue and clear, reminding Kara of sapphire stones, an endless expanse of blue filling her entire horizons.  
  
“Your Grace,” Lyra approached. “Our ship has arrived.” Then as if reading Kara’s mind, she explained, “There are dozens of islands scattered across the moon’s surface. We’ll be arriving at the resort by boat.”  
  
It was then Kara learned that the moon was covered in an ocean of impeccable blue, and that the landing platform was not a sizeable spaceport, but only a tiny dock on its surface. _No wonder it wobbled_.  
  
There were happy butterflies in her stomach as she followed Lyra to the waiting boat. After the dreary grey of Daxamlos and the suffocating rust of Daxam, the view of the ocean was liberating. Kara couldn’t wait; she had not felt such excitement in weeks.

 

* * *

 

The ship sliced across the ocean surface, the azure seas a brilliant contrast to the monochromatic skies – the forming clouds were pale and colorless, but the water was so clear, it took on the colors of the ocean floor.  Some parts of the ocean seemed darker from its depth, while others were a bloom of vibrancy, the reflections of an endless forest of underwater corals visible beneath the surface.  
  
Kara sat near the edge of the ship, her fingers hanging over the side, trailing across the water’s surface, parting through gentle waves that might had formed from ferocious storms half a planet away, its remnants now nothing more than foam and sea spray, washing into the side of the ship like a lingering greeting, from once a thousand miles away.  
  
It was a short wait before the ship neared their destination—a small clutter of islands, which Kara learned from Lyra, were the only few left unsubmerged on the moon and that, in a time long after their own, those islands too would return to the ocean’s depth.  
  
It was strangely melancholic.  
  
From afar, the islands seemed like different planets, floating across an ocean of space.  They were all different –  from size and shape, from the visible structures, to even the colors of their vegetation. Some seemed closer to sea level, with ships in their docks and buildings extending from the ground, while others had mountain ranges, even cliff edges jutting high into the skies.  
  
The ship came to a stop near a mid-sized island, and the first thing Kara noticed during their approach were the gigantic trees, red from trunk to leaf, like a gentle bonfire underneath a starless night, welcoming them into a warm, carmine shade.  
  
The deckhands jumped off the ship as it docked, using strong ropes to moor the boat to shore before extending a portable platform leading down to the beach. Kara wasted no time grabbing her bags and stepping onto the shore. She dropped her things onto the sand and stood still for a long moment, enjoying the quiet simplicity of nature, from the pleasant sunlight to the soft waves washing across the shoreline.  
  
She missed it all so much. Other than her visits to Lady Rairsaval’s garden, everything else on Daxamlos was artificial and chrome; Daxam was no better, there was nothing there but rust, and after spending so much time on the former, where everything felt stark and barren, Zarhseal-3 was a paradise in comparison, if it wasn’t already one in the first place.    
  
Kara waited while the servants unloaded all their belongings.  She stood near the water’s edge, hands spread against the ocean’s breeze; the water brushed against her shoes, tickling her soles, and in that moment, there was nothing she wanted more than to rip off her shoes and run into the water.  
  
But she resisted. _There will be a time for that_ , she hoped; the place was a resort after all.  
  
She was in the midst of making further plans for the things she wanted to do when an air-skiff emerged from the forest’s tree-line and approached the landing party. The vehicle reminded Kara of a sailboat, one which seemed to operate and hover on land instead of water.  
  
An older man dressed in colorful traditional garb descended from the skiff and bowed before Mon-El in greeting. Kara joined them, and he turned towards her as she approached. “Your Highness,” the old man clasped his arms behind his back as he bowed in formal greeting. “Welcome to the island of Yalaburi. My name is Zalas-Anazrasiz, and I shall be your guide for the evening.”  
  
“You have a very lovely island,” Kara bowed in similar fashion—and realized seconds later from the old man’s shocked reaction that it wasn’t something she should had done. She stood back upright as the old man immediately bowed once more, this time even lower than before, his body bent so low his forehead was almost touching the sand.  
  
He held that position for a long, awkward minute as Kara looked to Mon-El for help. Mon-El shrugged, “Bowing is a sign of reverence. A common man would never let his guest bow lower or longer than he did. Doing so is a sign of disrespect. Even more so in the presence of royalty.”  
  
It was the longest minute of Kara’s life, before the old man stood back straight. She started to apologize, but stopped herself when she noticed Mon-El’s rising brow, realizing that it might be yet another mistake. So, she kept her mouth shut and her posture still as she climbed onboard the air-skiff and took her seat beside Mon-El.

 

* * *

 

The ocean breeze was soon left behind as the skiff entered the forest. The trees reached high into the heavens, blocking out the immutable skies, but sunlight still trickled through the auburn canopy, showering their path in soft, fiery hue; a beautiful sight, as if taken straight from a painting flushed with warm, vibrant colors.  It seemed that the deeper they went into the forest, the brighter the colors became.  
  
“The Rosileraif tree, or in our native translation, ‘ _the light of the rose_ ’,” explained Zalas-Anazrasiz. “Their leaves turn translucent for an hour in the evening, an unexplainable phenomenon, which allows just enough sunlight to penetrate the ceiling canopy, turning our entire forest into a lovely shade of rose.” He smiled. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”  
  
Kara nodded. “It truly is.”  
  
“The trees are native and unique to our planet,” the old man said proudly. “You’ll never find them anywhere else.”

 

* * *

  
  
As the skiff continued deeper into the forest, Kara soon realized that the island was shaped like an upwards slope. Their destination seemed to bring them higher, leaving behind the warm beaches and gentle waves, eventually bringing them to a clearing by the island’s end, where the resort was built right on the cliff’s edge – the view of the red forest behind and the endless ocean beyond.  
  
Half a dozen porters stood by the resort’s entrance as the skiff came to a stop, all of them suspended in a half-bow.  
  
Kara did not make the same mistake this time round. She exited the skiff and was waiting for Mon-El to finish with their check-in when Zalas-Anazrasiz offered to give her a tour of the resort. “Don’t worry,” the old man said when noticing her hesitation. “The young prince is already familiar with our establishment.”  
  
She followed the old guide as he showed her their many facilities; from restaurants and stores to fitness centers and spas—the resort seemed to have everything.  
  
Afterwards, she joined Mon-El again as the two of them headed to their room, a beautiful suite overlooking the azure ocean below, with, as the old guide said, ‘ _one of the best views_.’  
  
He wasn’t wrong. The view was magnificent, even the lighting in the room was delightful; warm sunlight filtered through the open windows, covering the room in a soft, golden hue.  
  
_Another perk of marrying into the royal family_ , Kara thought as she jumped onto the enormous bed, sinking deep into the soft cushions that were impossibly fluffier than they looked.  
  
She wasn’t complaining though.

 

* * *

 

It was late in the evening when the two of them left their room for dinner. The restaurant was located above the cliff’s edge, the ocean visible below through the viewing panels composing of the restaurant’s floor – and with the sun currently near the horizon’s end, the water’s surface almost seemed to sparkle.  
  
The restaurant was empty, and they took a seat near the exterior, enjoying the light ocean’s breeze from the open-air establishment while they placed their orders. Kara picked seafood; it seemed like the right choice on such a planet.  
  
“Where is everyone else?” she asked halfway through their meal. The emptiness of the resort had been bugging her since their arrival; other than the half dozen porters she’d seen, there wasn’t a single other soul. “I thought the place would be super crowded or something,” she said. “It’s hard to believe that a place so beautiful could be so… quiet.”  
  
Mon-El shrugged. “Most people can’t afford a single afternoon,” he said matter-of-factly.  
  
“But that—”  
  
“—and we rented out the entire place.”  
  
_Of course_. She should had known. _The perks of marrying into the royal family_.  
  
It wasn’t something she was used to, but rather one of the most unfamiliar, most unexpected changes to her life. It wasn’t that she struggled for money back on Earth, but the DEO wasn’t paying her to be Supergirl, and she wasn’t exactly making bank working as a secretary either. She’d been the typical twenty-something working-class female, paying rent and occasionally saving enough to splurge on something pretty she’d seen window-shopping a few months back.  
  
Mon-El on the other hand… he seemed so different from her, so completely impervious to the concept of cost and price, dismissing them without a second’s thought. She had always imagined him as the sort of person that would buy an entire store just for a certain item he wanted – not to show off his riches, but for convenience simply because the cost of it did not matter to him.  
  
She was the opposite though, the sort that would visit ten different stores to find the cheapest option. Then again, he wasn’t at all the type that would flaunt his wealth, but he seemed so dispassionate, as though opulence was the normalcy of his life.  
  
“So, Mon-El,” she asked during dessert, purposely emphasizing the fact that she was using his name. “This isn’t your first trip here?”  
  
“It’s not,” he answered. “But it’s been years since my last visit. Father used to bring us here every year when I was younger.”  
  
“What changed?” she asked.  
  
“The death of the previous monarch,” he said. “War.”  
  
That was all he gave her, but it was enough, she understood. But what she did not, was the quiet solemnness she saw in his eyes, so quickly passed that it felt like nothing more than a figment of her imagination – an expression which betrayed the look of the ruthless warmonger she’d always thought he was.  
  
It was a look that didn’t belong to the person who invaded her planet, the person who had held his blade to her neck, so filled with bloodlust he looked like a devil from the dark, someone who lived and breathed in the carnage of war.  
  
It didn’t suit him at all.

 

* * *

 

It was already dark when the two of them returned to their room. Their bags had arrived from the check-in counter while they were out for dinner and were now neatly stacked up in the living room. Kara was preparing to unpack her things when she noticed a soft glimmer coming from outside the balcony.  
  
Deciding to investigate, she put on her jacket and stepped out into the cold night air, arms wrapped around herself as she peeked over the railing.  
  
To her surprise, she saw hundreds… maybe even thousands of little orbs scattered across the ocean’s surface like tiny fireflies, illuminating the seas in their coalescing glow. It was so beautiful she had to stop herself from gasping aloud.  
  
“I’m not jumping into the ocean if you fall,” Mon-El said as he stepped out onto the balcony beside her, _somewhat_ ruining the mood.  
  
“I’m not _that_ clumsy.” Kara pointed to the orbs. “What are those?” she asked.  
  
“Light-paths,” he said. “The moon does not get enough illumination from the sun due to its orbit in-between the other fifteen moons. The oceans are pitch black at night and the orbs help prevent ships from crashing onto shore.”  
  
“Like mini-lighthouses,” Kara said in awe. “But so, so much prettier. I can stare at them forever.”  
  
“Just don’t fall over,” Mon-El muttered as he headed back into their room.  
  
She remained outside for a long time, enjoying the gentle ocean breeze and the sound of waves calmly washing onto shore.

 

* * *

 

When Kara returned to the room, Mon-El was no longer there. There was no note left behind, but since his things were still there, she assumed he went out for something. She picked up the map of the island near the bedside table and spent the next few minutes marking out the places she wanted to visit tomorrow. She wasn’t feeling that tired yet, but it was getting late, and she decided it would be better to wait for the next day.  
  
She took a long shower next; the strange pearl-colored water took some time getting used to, but the warm, pleasant feeling she felt after her shower was nothing short of delightful. Afterwards, making sure Mon-El still hadn’t returned, she left the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around herself, picking up another to wrap around her head on her way to the bedroom.  
  
She didn’t know which bag contained her clothes, and since all were unmarked and looked the same, she lugged all of them into the room anyway. She picked up a random one and started digging through its contents, only realizing halfway that it belonged to Mon-El when she found a dagger inside, spanning the length of her forearm. She grimaced and placed the weapon back, zipping the bag up, when she noticed a piece of paper slipping out and falling onto the ground.  
  
She picked it up.  It was a photograph – taken on a beach somewhere, reminiscent of the one she arrived on – of a young woman with long, dark hair and a kind smile, an arm hung loosely around a scowling young boy with eyes of striking blue.  
  
The paper felt old, creased with foxed edges, and the colors were fading. There was nothing written on the back of the photograph either, no clue as to who or when the photo was taken, but Kara knew—beyond certainty exactly who the boy was.  
  
He was much older now, but he still had the same eyes, and the scowl was one she’d recognize anywhere. _Mon-El._ Which meant… her fingers brushed across the woman standing beside him. _Was that his mother? The one who he lost on the planet Zorgnith mentioned?  
  
_ It wasn’t a question she managed to answer, as the sound of the door opening sent her scrambling back to her feet and stuffing the photograph back in the bag. She didn’t want to be caught with the picture in her hands. It felt wrong, somehow, like she was looking at something private, not meant for her eyes to see.  
  
She zipped the bag back up in the nick of time, just as Mon-El entered the room. She turned to face him, standing up so quickly she felt the towel on her head starting to slip loose. She reached wildly for it, momentarily forgetting about the one wrapped around her chest, which caught around the leg of the bed and was stripped right off as she stood up on her feet.  
  
Their eyes caught, and for a single moment, she saw a flicker of surprise penetrate his usual impassiveness, a reaction she would had deemed a minor victory if not for the fact that she was now standing _completely_ naked in front of him.  
  
Except for the towel on her head, of course. _  
  
_ She yelped, more instinctively than not, the head-towel falling to the floor as her hands moved to cover her front. Her cheeks flushed bright red, and it took all her composure to remain still and not run out of the room with her lady bits flapping in the wind.  
  
Neither moved for a long moment, until Kara realized that the only bag left unchecked—which was likely where her clothes were packed, was on the table behind him, which led to an extremely awkward crabwalk past him and across the room.  
  
Mon-El stared at her the entire time, which made it no less embarrassing. Even worse was the look on his face, like he’d stumbled across something so cringeworthy it took all of his willpower not to look at her in horror. Then he blinked, as if snapping out of a stupor. “I’m not even going to ask,” he said as he turned and left the room.  
  
She waited until he was gone before unzipping the bag and putting on her clothes. It took her a few long minutes before regaining enough confidence to leave the bedroom, and her cheeks were still burning when she joined him in the living room.  
  
He was seated on the couch, a cup of tea in his hands. She stopped in front of him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I…”  
  
The clink of his cup against the coffee table silenced her. “Why are you apologizing?”  
  
“I… I don’t know,” she shook her head.  
  
“We’re supposed to be married,” he said. “And you’re supposed to be my wife.”  
  
“I know, but…”  
  
“Then stop acting like a bubbling schoolgirl.”  
  
It felt like she was being chided for something bad. She knew he was right though, and that her reaction was not how a wife would have acted in front of her husband. But even so, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger rising in the pits of her stomach. She hated his reprimanding tone. It was an embarrassing situation, more so for her than him, and now it felt like he was making fun of her for it as well.  
  
“You’re not the one who was naked,” she muttered. “Easy for you to say.” He started to respond, but she cut him off before he could. “And as if it wasn’t embarrassing enough, you didn’t have to look at me like… _that_! As if you saw something repulsive!”  
   
He stood up. “You think I have an issue with being naked in front of you?”  
  
“Well, you-”  
  
He immediately started to take his shirt off, until she grabbed onto his arm. “Fine,” she tried not to stare at anything below face-level. “You’ve made your point.” She sat down onto the couch as he pulled his shirt back on.  
  
Neither spoke for a long time, and the silence that passed was deafening. Unexpectedly, he was the one who broke the silence first. “I don’t find you repulsive,” he said suddenly. “I was just… caught off-guard.” It felt like he was apologizing, albeit in his own, unapologetic way.  
  
Strangely though, it made her feel a little better. “Then, I’m sorry, too,” she said softly. “I’m… not used to being naked in front of other people.”  
  
Her confession seemed to surprise him. “That is a strange thing to be inexperienced with,” he said. “Is revealing one’s bare self an illicit act on Earth?”  
  
She shook her head. “No, well, I mean… it is if you’re doing it in public, or to a minor, or… well, you get what I mean.”  
  
“But we’re not in public,” he said.  
  
“Yeah, but… I’m just not used to most forms of… intimacy,” it took her for a long period of time to find the words to explain. “You know, it wasn’t easy growing up on Earth as a Kryptonian. Even harder getting into a relationship with the whole… ‘I can accidentally crush them’ situation. Not to mention the fact that regardless of who I’m with, I’ll always have to hide the truth that I’m an alien with super strength and flight. Which means lying to them through the entire course of our relationship.” She paused, picking up his cup of tea and finishing it in a single gulp. It tasted horrible and she almost spat it out, but it helped with the dryness in her mouth. “And because of all that, I’ve always chosen to… well… avoid relationships.”  
  
“Kryptonian and Daxamite bodies are compatible. Yellow sun or not,” he said. “You can’t hurt me, neither do you have to lie.”  
  
“That’s… not the point.” It sounded like he was referring to procreation, but she knew it was not what he meant. Not entirely at least. He was pointing out the fact that the two of them were physically similar on planets with and without a yellow sun. “It’s… different, with you.”  
  
“Why is it different?” he asked.    
  
“Because it’s an arranged marriage?” she said. “It’s not like we fell in love and decided to get hitched. It’s already hard enough for me to get intimate with people that I love, and I’m beyond grateful that you’re not forcing me into doing something I’m uncomfortable with, but even so… everything is still so very much new and foreign to me.”  
  
He was quiet for a long while. “Regardless of how you feel, we still have to act like a married couple in front of others,” he said. “You can’t shrink away every time I come near.”  
  
She nodded. “I know, it’s just…” She shrank away from him, unintentionally, and it seemed that he noticed.  
  
“You are afraid that I might hurt you?” he asked.  
  
She nodded again, this time a lot slower than before. “Sometimes.”  
  
“I’m… not going to hurt you, it is counterproductive to what we’re trying to achieve with our marriage.” He paused and said, “And because you are my wife, for no Daxamite man would raise his arms against his wife, lest he live a life in shame and without honor.”  
  
_You are my wife_.  
  
She felt a shiver run down her spine. But it wasn’t the same chilling, toe-curling shiver she felt the first time she agreed to marry him. It was different, and she wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. She didn’t know what to say in response and, for the longest time, couldn’t find the words, until she did.  
  
“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

It was a single bed situation again, but unlike the one in the motel, the bed in their suite was enormous. There was more than enough space without clashing limbs and awkward angles, which Kara was extremely grateful for as she settled into her side of the bed.  
  
There was an uncomfortable awkwardness lingering in the air after the conversation they had, which Kara tried to disperse with small talk.  
  
“This is so much better than the motel night,” she said.  
  
Mon-El grunted in acknowledgement.  
  
“So… is that where you usually bring your girls?” she asked. “Dingy motels in the slums?”  
  
“It’s not an _actual_ wedding night,” he answered. “Neither were you some girl I was _bringing_ somewhere.”  
  
“Yeah, but still…” she was starting to feel a lot more relaxed now.  
  
“But what?”  
  
“Nothing,” she quipped. Then she turned to him and said, “It’s just that I’ve just always dreamt of getting swept off my feet by my knight in shining armor and riding off together into the sunset. Not at a dirty old motel instead.”  
  
“That makes no sense at all,” he said in a deadpan manner. “Horses are unable to maintain enough velocity to outrun the distance in which we observe the sun’s position in the sky. And armors are not meant to shine. Clean armor after battle is a sign of desertion or cowardice, while honor is gained returning from combat with blood-stained wear. Your dream is flawed.”     
  
She smiled, perhaps for the first time ever in his company. “That’s why it’s a dream.”  
  
He had no response. “I… suppose.”  
  
They were quiet for a little while, then she reached open and switched off the light. The room fell into darkness.  
  
“Goodnight, Mon-El,” she said, this time in English.  
  
“Goodnight,” he returned in same.  
  
A long second passed before the lights clicked back on.  
  
Another long second before he sighed. “Goodnight, _Kara_.”  
  
The lights clicked back off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the next chapter, we'll have the two of them explore the island :) I actually had quite a few 'fun' things planned for that, but the chapter ended up being so huge I had to split their island adventure into the next chapter. 
> 
> as usual, if you'd like to see story-update-progresses, little snippets of next chapters, or if you'd like to talk about my stories, tv shows, or just life in general, you can find me @ shipwreckinabottle on tumblr.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter here we come! :)
> 
> As usual, a huge thanks to my beta - maybetomorrow.
> 
> This is part 1 of 2. The chapter ended up being way too long (10k+ words), so I broke it down into two parts. The second part is roughly 85% done now, so it won't be too long before the next update.

When Kara woke the next morning, Mon-El was nowhere to be found once again.    
  
It was late in the morning, she could tell, from the soft sunlight filtering in through the opened windows. She wasn’t surprised that Mon-El was gone; she also knew that it had nothing to do with their predicament, but rather that he simply wasn’t someone that slept in late.  
  
Kara stretched and rolled across the soft cushion –  with the whole bed to herself and nothing on her immediate schedule, she was in no rush to leave. Propping the pillows against the bedrest, she made herself a comfortable seat and watched in amusement as the ocean breeze sent the window curtains dancing in a little flutter.  
  
When Kara eventually stepped off the bed, she dug her toes deep into the mattress and yawned as loudly as she could. It was a beautiful morning and, for a long moment, she felt as though she was right back on Earth, with all her fears and her worries long gone, leaving behind nothing but a quiet blissfulness, a calmness she had not felt for the longest time. She relished in that feeling, holding onto it as long as she could, until it too faded away.  
  
Kara took a long bath next; a few long minutes were spent contemplating between the dozens of provided aromatic bath soaps, before she decided to dump all of them into the gigantic marble tub, filling it to its brim with hundreds of colorful little bubbles.  
  
After her bath, as Kara returned to the living room, she noticed a strange sound coming from outside the balcony. Suddenly remembering the embarrassing events of the night before, and careful to not make the same mistake twice, she put on her clothing before stepping outside to investigate.  
  
Nothing seemed amiss at first, and Kara was peering over the railings when a dozen brightly colored songbirds suddenly took to the skies. The songbirds darted across the ocean’s surface, their movements as graceful as they were precise, slicing upwards into the clouds.  It was as though their music and dance were a performance for her alone. They eventually flew out of sight, leaving Kara still not quite believing what she’d just seen, if not for their melody still lingering softly in the air.  
  
It was when Kara returned to the room that she noticed the large knife stuck into the bedside table. She stared at it in surprise, blinking, wondering for a quick second if she was in danger. Then, she noticed the piece of paper stuck underneath. Freeing the knife from the table’s surface, she retrieved the note, realizing that its contents weren’t as ominous as the whole knife-in-bedside-table situation seemed.  
  
_Gym. Back in a few hours._  
_Mon-El of Daxam._  
  
Kara couldn’t help but smile. The note felt almost… _comical_. From using the large knife as a paperweight to him signing off as “ _Mon-El of Daxam.”_ _._ There wasn’t another way for her to describe it. Sheathing the knife back into its scabbard, Kara carefully placed it aside and left the room.

 

* * *

  
  
The weather was lovely that morning; the wind felt gentle, not harsh, and the sun was a calming presence in the sky, a noticeable blot behind the moon’s heavy clouds – warm, but not quite humid. Kara strolled her way through the resort grounds, taking her time to enjoy the view; on one hand, she could see the open ocean, an endless blue reaching into the horizon, and on the other, an expanse of red, a different sort of horizon, separating the island’s canopy from the clouds.  
  
The Wellness Center, where Mon-El should be, was next to the restaurant. From the delicious aroma in the air, Kara could tell that breakfast was ready. But she paused right at the building’s entrance and, resisting the insistent rumbling of her stomach, entered instead.  
  
The attendant behind the counter bowed immediately. “Your Highness,” she said with a smile. “Welcome to the Wellness Center.”  
  
Kara resisted the urge to return the bow. The awkward moment she shared with the guide was still fresh in her mind. “Morning,” she nodded instead. “Is Mon-E-… I mean, is the Prince here?”  
  
The attendant nodded. “He is in training room five. Shall I bring you?”  
  
The two of them headed to the training room and the attendant left after another deep bow.  
  
Kara entered and found Mon-El in quiet meditation, sitting cross-legged at the center of the room. From the few weapons strewn across the mat around him, she assumed he was already done with his daily ritual, which she knew, from the few times she’d seen him practicing back on Daxamlos, involved perfecting the hundreds of ways he could kill a person with every single weapon.    
  
“Morning,” she said in approach.  
  
Mon-El opened his eyes. “Morning.”  
  
Kara stopped at the edge of the mat and picked up a strange-looking object near her feet. “What does this do?” she asked. “It looks like an oval pineapple.”  
  
“It’s a curved _Lazarsks_. You use it to disembowel your enemies and spill their intestines across the battleground,” he answered. “Effective in killing morale when men see the battlefield run red with their leader’s blood.”  
  
There was a loud clang as Kara dropped the weapon on the ground. “Pineapple it is not,” she muttered.  
  
Mon-El shrugged. “Why are you here?” he asked.  
  
“Just passing by. I was about to grab some breakfast.” Then Kara asked. “Have you eaten?”  
  
Mon-El shook his head.  
  
“Shall we?” she asked. 

 

* * *

  
  
The two of them left the gym after Mon-El’s shower and headed to the terraced café a short walk away. The building’s interior was warm and delightful, with soft lamps and colorful walls; it reminded Kara of Earth décor, like something she could find right on the streets of National City, if not for the few exotic plants placed around its interior.  
  
There was a breakfast buffet prepared for the two of them, a long table filled with all sorts of deliciousness, from meats of all sorts, to pastries similar to those Kara could find back on Earth. There was plenty of food, all of it untouched until Kara took her first piece, undoubtedly because they were the only two patrons on the entire island.  
  
She filled her plate high with food, two plates in fact, making sure to grab at least a piece of everything before joining Mon-El at their table outside on the terrace. As Kara took her seat, the first thing she noticed, other than the gorgeous ocean view, was the green goop on Mon-El’s plate. The same green goop he ate at the motel. She gulped as he dug his spoon into the goop, the jelly-like substance wobbling as he freed a chunk and brought it to his mouth.   
  
“W-What is that?” she finally asked. “The green… thing?” She understood if he had no other choice back at the motel. But with such an amazing variety of food prepared for them, Mon-El’s choice was hardly the reasonable one.  
  
“Nutrients.”  
  
Kara raised an eyebrow. “Nutrients?”  
  
“Field rations,” he said, taking another bite without looking at his food. “Standard issue.”  
  
“As in… military field rations?” Kara learned about field rations from Alex back when her sister was training at the DEO. Or at least Kara knew, from Alex’s complaining, how bad those rations tasted.  
  
He nodded.  
  
“You’re having… field rations… here?” she asked, bewildered at his choice of food. “Of all the available choices?”    
  
“I’m used to it,” he said, as Kara found herself unable to look away from the thin line of unbreakable goop which trailed from Mon-El’s plate to his spoon, until he broke it with a bite.  
  
She shuddered. “More for me then.”

 

* * *

  
  
After breakfast, Kara opened up the map of the moon on her provided datapad. “What now?” she asked. “Do we have an itinerary for the day?”  
  
Mon-El shook his head. “You’re free to do whatever pleases you.”  
  
Kara fell quiet for a moment, remembering all of the spots she’d marked out on the map the night before; places and attractions she wanted to see. But then suddenly, a different train of thought crossed her mind. “Your father…” she started to say.  
  
“My father?” Mon-El repeated, visibly confused.  
  
“You said that in the past… your father brought you and your brothers here on frequent visits, right?” she asked.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“So… what did you guys do then?”  
  
Mon-El was silent for a long second, deep in thought. “We would start most of our days ascending the _Isle of Karsht_. Father allowed us neither food nor rest until reaching the summit.”   
  
The _Isle of Karsht_ , as Kara remembered on the map, was the only island on this moon with a mountainous range a few thousand meters above sea level. It was also one of the few islands she had not intended on visiting. From the pictures she’d seen, the island seemed barren without life, a place where only sharp edges and jagged rocks existed.   
  
“We could do that together, I guess?” Kara said. It was a decision she immediately hoped she wouldn’t regret. “But without the latter half, of course. I would like to bring along plenty of water and rest, thank you very much.”  
  
It wasn’t her first time mountain climbing. She’d tried it before back on Earth on Alex’s insistence. Kara could had flown straight to the top, of course, but Alex was adamant on “ _No powers! You’ll enjoy it, trust me!_ ” Kara figured she wasn’t as much of an adrenaline junkie as Alex, but even she had to admit—it was fun.  
  
Mon-El shrugged at her answer, as if it wasn’t something he really cared about. “If you insist.”

 

* * *

  
  
It was an hour’s boat ride from the resort island to the _Isle of Karsht_.  
  
While Mon-El left the resort empty-handed, “ _as we used to_ ” he said, Kara decided to be a little bit more prepared. The bag she brought along contained an additional set of clothes, a few bottles of fresh water, and even a small box of tiny sandwiches she ordered from room service.  
  
There was also a large sunhat which she bought from one of the souvenir stores, which was now flapping wildly in the wind as she stuck her head out from the side of the boat, enjoying the wash of ocean’s breeze against her skin.  
  
The _Isle of Karsht_ appeared in Kara’s horizon long before their arrival. The great mountain island loomed above the ocean, an ugly blot of jagged stones with rocks as far the eyes could wander. It stood quietly, like an ancient observer from a previous time, stretching between ocean, sky, and even eons, affected by neither the waves, the clouds, nor even time itself.  
  
Kara shuddered at the sight. It was even taller than she’d thought.  
  
When the boat finally docked at the mountain’s edge, Kara realized how much harsher the island was than it seemed from the pictures. From waves crashing violently onto the shore, to the winds chilling to her bones; it felt like the island was sending her a message – a loud, clear “ _You’re not welcome_.”  
  
Mon-El on the other hand, did not seem bothered at all by their change in surrounding. He jumped off the boat and splashed into the knee-high water, traversing onto land and waited for her near a mountain path with an old wooden sign, its contents long lost to age.  
  
Picking up her bag, Kara waited for the exiting ramp to be extended before leaving the boat. She joined Mon-El near the path, her eyes following the criss-crossing trail high up into the mountains. She noticed there were stone steps carved out from the mountain itself; so old and ancient they might had been from a previous civilisation, long lost to time itself.  
  
“We used to scale the mountain’s side with our bare hands. But since you have no experience ascending such terrain, I thought it was best if we followed the path instead,” Mon-El said.  
  
Kara looked up towards the summit, hidden far within the clouds. It made her feel even smaller, an insignificant dot with her cute sunhat flimsy in the wind. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself and shivered. Then she took her first step. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

  
  
The steps rose high into the mountains, steeper and more uneven the higher the two of them ascended. Unlike the barren wasteland Kara had initially imagined, there were instead small signs of nature along the mountainous trail. She noticed small moss-covered stones and little tufts of faint grass shaking in the wind, as if trying all they could to root themselves into the mountainside, lest they get blown away by the wind.  
  
Kara tried not to think about what would happen if she were to slip. Her steps were careful, while Mon-El’s were fast, fleeting, as if without a care to the world. She tried hard to keep up, though it certainly wasn’t easy; she ran out of breath quite often, with the air much lighter up in the mountain, and without her powers, Kara wasn’t exactly someone with unlimited stamina.  
  
Eventually, after a few hours of hiking, the two of them stopped for Kara to catch her breath. They rested near a small outcropping, the edge of the rock a straight drop to the ocean miles below. Mon-El sat on the edge, his leg hanging over the side, while Kara sat closer to the path, wanting nothing to do with the precarious drop. She drank half the bottle of water in a single gulp, then offered it to Mon-El, who declined.  
  
“No water and rest till the top?” she asked.  
  
“As it should be,” he said. “You know, I would had made the summit over an hour ago without you.”  
  
“Then you’re not stopping to appreciate the view.”  
  
“There is nothing to see here,” he rolled his eyes. “The island is barren.”  
  
“I disagree,” Kara said. “I think there’s something beautiful here. Not in the conventional sense, of course. But there is beauty to be found.” Her fingers brushed across a small patch of grass near her feet. “Look at the grass, for example. For life to grow somewhere to barren, so harsh… It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”  
  
He stared at her strangely. “It’s just a patch of grass.”  
  
“Well… I guess we’re different in that way,” she stood up and stretched, taking in the clear mountain air.   
  
“In what way?”  
  
“I’m more of a dreamer,” she smiled.  
  
“More like a delusional fantasist.”  
  
“And you’re a gloomy, cynical pessimist,” her lips pursed together.  
  
Mon-El shrugged, seeming to agree with her assessment.

 

* * *

  
  
It took them another two hours to reach the summit. The view was, without a doubt, breath-taking. Free from the clouds, the summit felt so close to the heavens it was as if Kara could touch space itself with her fingertips. The sky dawned over her like a gigantic blanket, sewn with thousands of beautiful stars as far her eyes could see.  
  
Then the sound of boots crunching into stone broke Kara free from her wonderous stupor. She turned towards its source and noticed that Mon-El had jumped across a small crevice near the edge, onto an outcropping which jutted out from the mountainside, the cliff’s edge right above the ocean drop.  
  
He beckoned.  
  
She immediately shook her head.  
  
He beckoned again.  
  
She shook her head harder.  
  
“Are you afraid?” his voice was soft in the frigid air.  
  
Kara scowled. “That’s not going to work.”  
  
“Do you need me to build you a bridge then, _Princess_?”  
  
“You…” her fingers gripped into the side of her shorts. “Fine!”  
  
Mon-El always seemed to know exactly which buttons to push.  
  
Kara tiptoed to the edge of the crevice, her approach sending tiny bits of stone falling off into the ravine below, bouncing off the stone walls and echoing for as long as she held her breath. Then, with her fists squeezed shut, Kara took a step back—and leapt across the crevice.  
  
Momentum launched her through the air, landing her near the opposite end of the outcropping. She stumbled near the edge for a long second, close to losing her balance, when he caught her, fingers squeezing into the soft of her back, pulling her back into him as the two of them fell onto the ground.  
  
It took Kara a long second to catch her breath and regain enough composure to roll off Mon-El. She got up to her feet and dusted at her clothing while he sat up into a more comfortable position. From where she stood, Kara realized how much more beautiful the view was from the outcropping; the entire mountain range was laid out before her, like the back of a large, sleeping monster.  
  
Taking the spot beside Mon-El, Kara dug through the contents of her bag until finding the box of sandwiches she’d packed. Mon-El accepted one this time, and the two of them ate in pleasant quietness. Afterwards, when Kara’s legs were no longer sore from the climb, she stood up and stretched, preparing herself for the trek back down.  
  
He noticed. “Are you ready to leave?”  
  
She nodded in the direction of the mountain path.  
  
“Not that way,” he said.  
  
“Is there another path down?” she asked, confused.  
  
Mon-El gestured off the edge with a tilt of his head. “We jump into the ocean.”  
  
Kara laughed. “I’m sorry, for a second, I thought you said-”  
  
“We jump into the ocean,” he said again, as if it was the most likely thing in the world. “That is what we used to do.”  
  
Kara peeked over the side. The ocean was so far below she could barely make out the waves. “You’re… serious?” she stammered.  
  
He nodded. “The gravity on Zarshael is much different than on your Earth. The fall will not hurt you.”  
  
“But-…” she started to argue, but only managed a single word before Mon-El took a step backwards, then another—and suddenly he was gone, free-falling off the side. She rushed to the edge, just in time to see him splash into the ocean below. A long second passed, before a tiny speck of movement emerged from the water.  
  
Kara paced around the outcropping in frantic circles. She could turn back in the direction she came from, but the trek would take hours. It was getting late, and she was sure she wouldn’t like being stuck on the side of a mountain during nightfall.  
  
After another long minute of contemplation, she picked up her bag and walked to the edge, her toes peeking over the side.  
  
“Mon-El… I’m…” she took a deep breath, “going to kill you if I die.”  
  
Then she closed her eyes—and allowed gravity to do the rest.

 

* * *

  
  
Kara remembered to keep her nose pinched shut when she plunged feet-first into the water. The force of her landing carried her deep into the ocean’s depth, blanketing her in a world of deep blue. The landing did not hurt one bit, and she was greeted by a school of colorful fishes as she gradually rose back up to the surface.  
  
Breaking free of the ocean, Kara gasped for air, momentarily disorientated by her surroundings. Then she noticed Mon-El treading water beside her, with the island’s rocky shore not too far behind them.  
  
She found herself relaxing, allowing her body to float in a lying position. The ocean was even prettier up close, the water so clear Kara could see the fishes darting in and out of the colorful corals deep beneath her.  
  
It wasn’t as cold and harsh as she thought either. The waves were gentle, and the water felt cool, not cold enough to freeze, but perfect after a hot afternoon’s climb. She swam her way over to Mon-El. “That was not as bad as I expected,” she admitted. “But let’s not do that again.”  
  
His voice carried over the sound of ocean waves. “I did not expect you to take the leap,” he said. “From the way you were cowering like a small child, I’d expected you to take the long way down.”  
  
“I…-”  
  
“I’m glad you did--”  
  
That surprised Kara. It almost seemed as if he was proud of what she did.  
  
That was until he continued, “—I would’ve preferred not to wait a few hours on the ship while you took your precious time descending from the summit.”  
  
Kara’s eyes narrowed, then, before Mon-El could say another word, she swung her arms into the water in his direction, causing it to splash all over his face.   
  
He spluttered out the water and glared at her.  
  
Kara’s lips trembled for a long second, before she burst out in laughter.  
  
That was until she got her face splashed with water too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the second part we'll have them explore a different island. It's something I've planned almost a year ago! It's going to be exciting! 
> 
> as usual, if you'd like to see story-update-progresses, little snippets of next chapters, or if you'd like to talk about my stories, tv shows, or just life in general, you can find me @ shipwreckinabottle on tumblr.
> 
> (Also, if anyone is interested, I've got another two Karamel stories out there.  
> Neon butterflies - sci fi dystopian au  
> oh look at those far, faraway stars - one shot)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And part two here we go! :]
> 
> a huge thanks to maybetomorrow and blacksoulwithredsoles for helping me beta this chapter.

Kara decided to visit the island’s beach on the third day. She considered asking Mon-El along, but as usual, he wasn’t there in the morning. He did leave her a note though—without the large knife this time round—telling her that he had business elsewhere to attend to, and that he would be back in the evening.  
  
She was curious, of course, as to what his business entailed, but since there was no other way of finding out apart from asking him about it herself, she decided to leave it be for now. There were other things to do, like packing her bag for her solo trip down to the beach. She was going to enjoy herself—with or without him there.   
  
It was early in the afternoon when she finally left her room. With a small bag in hand, she met up with Zalas-Anazrasiz at the resort’s entrance where he’d parked the air-skiff. He bowed as she approached, and she greeted him in return as she boarded the skiff.  
  
Their trip through the red forest was a short one. As the afternoon was still young, the _Rosileraif_ trees were yet without their translucent bloom, but the view was no less splendid, the forest’s canopy a sea of red minutes from the ocean itself.  
  
Before long, the air-skiff broke free from the tree line and came upon the island’s coast.   
  
“Your Highness, you may contact me with your datapad when you wish to return,” said Zalas-Anazrasiz as Kara alighted from the skiff. He bowed a final time and headed back in the direction of the resort.  
  
Now that she was alone, Kara stood still for a long second, her eyes closed, listening to the sound of ocean waves, and breathing in the fresh salt air. A smile broke on her face; taking off her shoes, she ran down to the water’s edge, leaving light footprints in the soft sand as she splashed to where the waves greeted shore. She soaked in the simplicity of the moment, from the sound of the ocean to the waves licking at her toes; it was a serene, peaceful moment, tranquil in all its definitions.  
  
Afterwards, she unpacked her things onto the sand. There were quite a few items which she brought along from the resort’s convenience store: a comfortable mattress, a colorful beach umbrella, a guide-book detailing the history of the moon’s many significant islands, and a delicious blue-ish colored drink—it’s peculiar name she still couldn’t quite pronounce in her native tongue.  
  
Getting comfortable and settling into the umbrella’s shade, Kara took a sip of her drink and, in the presence of the ocean waves and warm afternoon sun, started to read.  
  
It was a feeling she could get used to, one without the weight of the world on her shoulders.

 

* * *

  
  
It was a few comfortable hours later when Kara noticed something strange in the water.  
  
There was a small black object a short swim’s distance from shore, bobbing up and down, ebbing with the ocean’s flow. Putting her book aside, she left her sheltered spot and moved closer to the water’s edge for a better look.  
  
At first glance, Kara thought it was a rock or a piece of drifting seaweed. That was until movement came from the object. Then she realized it was a young boy—it was his dark hair, half submerged in the water that bobbled with the waves.  
  
He seemed to be drifting further and further with each passing second, with no visible attempts of returning back to shore. The sight worried Kara. She wasn’t sure if he needed help, but she wasn’t going to stand still and hope it wasn’t the alternative.  
  
Regardless of the situation, he was still a young child getting swept out into the ocean—and it was always better to be safe than sorry. She started to yell in his direction, waving her arms as hard as she could to try and get his attention. But there came no answer.  
  
Kara wasn’t a great swimmer; she knew how, of course, but it wasn’t something she needed to perfect back on Earth—not with what she could do with her powers. Still, there was zero hesitation as she dove straight into the open ocean.  
  
The waves were not rough, but the currents were strong. She fought against the ocean’s pull, her arms soon burning with exertion. As Kara approached the area she last saw the boy, he was no longer there. Fearing the worst, she dived downwards, but he was nowhere to be found.  
  
She broke free of the water’s surface to tread water and think. She knew the currents could have swept the boy in another direction, but with her visibility limited by the rising waves, there wasn’t much she could do from here. She needed to head back to shore, to organize a search party and--  
  
To Kara’s surprise, there was a group of people watching her from the shore; the boy who she thought was drowning; an older man, likely his father; and most unexpectedly, Mon-El himself.  
  
Relaxing her body, Kara allowed the waves to carry her back to land.

 

* * *

  
  
When Kara returned to shore, only Mon-El was left.  
  
“Where did they go?” Kara asked. She pulled her hair to the back of her head and tried squeezing the water out of her drenched clothing—not to much avail.  
  
“The pier. The ocean is safer to travel before nightfall.” Seeming to have noticed her confusion, he added, “They’re fisherman from a nearby village.”  
  
“Oh… that means…” she said. “I… went into the water because I thought the boy was in danger.”  
  
“Why would you think that?” he asked.  
  
“Because I saw him get carried away by the waves, and I thought…”  
  
Mon-El sighed. “You thought that someone who lived on a moon that is over ninety-five percent water-covered… couldn’t swim?”  
  
“Well… if you put it that way,” replied Kara sheepishly.

 

* * *

  
  
The evening sky started to turn orange as the two of them packed up Kara’s belongings. Afterwards, she contacted Zalas-Anazrasiz on her datapad, who told her he’d be there in minutes.  
  
The two of them sat by the beach as they waited for their ride, watching the sun slowly disappear over the horizon. It started to turn dark, but their surroundings were still warmly lit by the glowing stones Kara saw all over the ocean on her first night.  
  
She shivered as a stray gust of wind greeted her from the sunless ocean; she had not packed for a swim, and with the lack of towels and her clothing still wet from her impromptu swim, the temperature was starting to turn against her favor.  
  
She considered picking up one of the stones, wondering if they provided heat, when Mon-El’s jacket flew over and smacked her right in the face. It stunned her for a long second, and she glared at him in response, until realizing that he must have noticed how cold she was. Her irritated stare evaporated instantly and she put the jacket on instead. It was warm, and there was a strong scent of firewood.  
  
“Thank you,” she said.  
  
He shrugged.

 

* * *

  
  
The rainstorm was as sudden as it was ferocious.  
  
The calm ocean waves turned feral without warning, the soft evening clouds devoured by a caliginous sky; the seas rose forth like a great mountainous demon, threatening to swallow the ship whole into its dark, turbulent depths.  
  
The deckhands sought to regain control of the ship, but the ocean’s wrath was relentless. Gale winds and massive waves assaulted the ship, lacing the air thick with ocean spray, reducing visibility to near zero.  
  
Through the commotion, one of the deckhands found Kara and ushered her down onto the lower decks. Almost slipping on the water-soaked stairs, Kara kept out of their way and found herself a seat near a porthole. She watched the ferocious seas beyond, her hands gripping so tightly onto the railings her knuckles bore white.  
  
“We’re in no danger,” Mon-El said as he approached, his clothing drenched by the rain. “Such storms are a common occurrence on the moon.”  
  
It felt like the waves could tear the ship apart at any moment, but Mon-El didn’t seem the least bit bothered. His impassiveness, which Kara usually found annoying, was strangely reassuring this time round. “Change of plans, I suppose?” she asked.  
  
He nodded. “We’ll be diverting our course to the nearest inhabited island. At least until the storm passes.”  
  
The ship was headed to an island known as the _Isle of Flowers_ when the storm struck. It was one of the islands on the top of Kara’s to-visit list. But in their current state, even an island filled with all sorts of beautiful flowers couldn’t convince her to brave another minute against the storm.  
  
To be in such a helpless situation without the familiarity of her powers was unnerving; she wanted nothing more than to feel the sand back beneath her feet.

 

* * *

  
  
The nearest inhabited island was less than a mile’s sail away.  From the large amount of fishing boats anchored to the coast and the dozens of buildings visible near the island’s tree line, Kara assumed it was a fishing village of some sort—perhaps where the natives of the moon inhabited.  
  
When the ship finally docked, Kara heaved a sigh of relief, wasting no time leaving the hold; she stepped out into the rain, her bag held over her head as she descended from the boat and onto the tide-risen shore. The water came up to her knees, chilling her to her bones, and her teeth were already starting to chatter when Mon-El landed in the water beside her.  
  
He led her from the coast to the shoreline, a firm but steady hand on the small of her back. Braving the heavy winds, they hurried in the direction of the village, where thick clouds of smoke were seen rising above gigantic palm trees. There wasn’t a single soul out in the open as they approached the village, not surprising in such ferocious weather, but pieces of conversation and laughter could be heard coming from one of the larger buildings at the village’s center—a tavern from the looks of it.  
  
Kara entered the building after Mon-El and noticed that it was filled with people of all ages and sorts. From what seemed to be fishermen with sun-kissed skin and large bristling beards to wide-eyed children, gathered near the large hearth at the center of the room for heat, where an enormous skewered fish—more than twice Kara’s size—roasted in a spit, the smell of sizzling meat causing her mouth to instantly water.  
  
But as the occupants noticed their arrival, the tavern fell quickly into an uncomfortable silence; once bustling with activity, it fell so quiet that all Kara could hear was the crackling of firewood from the enormous hearth, the flames casting large shadows running up the side of the building’s interior, like guardians of a sacred place not meant for her intrusion.  
  
One of the seated men got up and approached. He had a large, full beard the color of wildfire and his arms, covered in colorful tatted lines, rippled with powerful muscles. “Greet’ins” he bowed in front of Mon-El, his voice deep with a slight Daxamian accent. “We eren’t expect’in er tonight’h, Prince’th.”  
  
“We seek shelter from the storm,” said Mon-El. He reached forward with his right arm, a downward fist which opened into an extended palm. The man did the same, but in reverse, their fists coming together in a firm grasp, with a long second of pause before breaking part. And as they did, the tavern returned once more to normalcy, as conversations and laughter again roared over the large, crackling fire, as though the second of unease was nothing more than a passing through, a figment of something not quite real.  
  
The large man led the two of them over to a seat by the raging fire; the hearty atmosphere, stoked by the cracking of mugs and the joyous glee of children, warmed Kara to her bones, ridding her of the weather’s chill, and bringing a soft pink blush to her cheeks.  
  
Grabbing two mugs and with a loud roar, the man thrust his arms into a large barrel of what seemed to be ale. Filling them filled to the brim, he slammed it down in front of the two of them, causing Kara to jump in her seat.  
  
Mon-El took a sip from his drink and nodded. As soon as he did, the bearded man’s gaze fell upon Kara. He leaned towards her, so closely she could see the hearth’s reflection in his eyes, which were narrowing in intense scrutiny, until she lifted her mug and took a gulp as well.  
  
The ale coursed down her throat, a malty caramel flavor, not too sweet, perfectly balanced with a hint of bitterness. It was delightful, bringing a tingling heat from Kara’s stomach all the way down to her toes. Holding the mug towards the man, she followed Mon-El’s actions and nodded as well.  
  
A huge grin appeared on the man’s face. He gestured to the lady sitting by the hearth, who then picked up a large knife and started slicing into the roasting fish. She filleted perfect chunks of delicious meat onto a tray filled with all sorts of spices and condiments, before placing it down onto their table.  
  
“Enjoy ye’r meal, Prince’th,” the man said, as he returned to his table and once more engaging in cheer with his companions.  
  
It was the two of them again.  
  
Kara took another sip of the warm ale before turning to the fish. As there were no utensils, she had to use her hands instead. She waited for Mon-El to pick a piece before she did, her stomach in an impatient grumble. When he did, she targeted the largest piece, using her fingers to pull apart the meat and stuffing it into her mouth.  
  
The taste made her sigh and melt into her seat. It was rich and delicious, with a hint of freshness that could have only came from the ocean itself. She ate noisily, not caring how she looked, portions of fish and mugs of ale after the other.  
  
“What was that thing? The hand… thing?” she asked somewhere between her fifth and sixth portion of fish. “The one you greeted that man with?”  
  
“A customary sign of respect,” he answered. “It is the greeting of ancient Daxamite tribes. An upward palm from the host signifies hospitality, an open welcome, while the downward palm is a gesture of peace, which in ancient times, demonstrates the absence of weaponry, a lack of hostile intent. It is, as you would say, ‘ _we come in peace’_.”  
  
“These are all Daxamites?” The revelation came as a surprise to Kara. The villagers looked nothing like the Daxamites she’d came across. She remembered the ones she’d encountered during Kar Gand’s celebration of _Rezarksorm_ ; all the Daxamites she’d met seemed highborn, aristocratic in nature. She remembered how uncanny they were in their flawlessness, as though their strive for perfection had left them a likeness that was no longer quite “human.”  
  
Yet the Daxamites here were nothing alike; they didn’t have the same artificialness of those she’d encountered on Daxamlos. Instead, the Daxamites here felt _alive_ , more so than she’d seen before, perhaps even more alive than some of the Earthlings she knew trapped back in their uninspired, monotonous existence. It was a strange, but stirring sight, bringing along emotions and even more questions she didn’t know quite how to answer.  
  
“Not all Daxamites are the same,” said Mon-El, as if reading her thoughts. “There are thousands of off-word Daxamite tribes spread across the eons, different cultures, even different gods.” He paused as a barmaid came over to refill their drinks. “Our ancestors were explorers, much like your own.”  
  
That part Kara knew was true. Her Kryptonian ancestors had mapped the stars. But thousands of years before her own, after suffering heavy losses from the invasion of an ancient alien race, Krypton’s High Council ordered the return of every Kryptonian ship, which remained until her planet’s eventual destruction. Which meant that while there were no Kryptonian tribes left out in the galaxy, it wasn’t quite the same for the Daxamites.  
  
“I know it sounds stupid, but after spending so much time on Daxamlos, where everything felt so… cold… and methodical, it’s just… warming, to be in such a different atmosphere,” she said. “Everyone here feels so alive, while on Daxamlos… the people I met there felt… dea-, no, I wouldn’t say dead, more… artificial, than alive. Like machines trying to imitate a living being’s smile without actually understanding happiness, or joy.”  
  
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” he said, much to her surprise. “Undoubtedly, there is truth in your words. But, the idyllic existence of fishermen could hardly be compared to those of Daxam royalty. It requires a certain… strength, that most commoners lack, in order to reign. Else, we fade into obscurity, forgotten from history like many of the fallen Houses before our own.”  
  
“I guess that’s true,” Kara said as she picked up another portion of fish. “Maybe you can tell me more about those houses in the future?”  
  
“Perhaps, if we have time,” he answered.

 

* * *

  
  
Somehow, later on, Kara found herself in a drinking competition with another large, bearded man more than twice her size. She stood in the middle of a large gathered crowd, a pint of ale in her hands, the lively crowd surrounding her chanting what she assumed was, “ _Drink! Drink! Drink!”_ in their native tongue.  
  
And she did, one mug after the other; it took her at least four more pints before her opponent started to slow. On the sixth, with his skin flushed redder than the fire itself, the man finally yielded. He split his unfinished drink all over the counter, pushing aside the crowd as he stumbled out of the tavern to vomit.  
  
With victory in her grasp, Kara started to chug the remainder of her drink. For a second, with an arm held out to silence the crowd, it seemed as though she was struggling with holding down the ale. Then in the next second, with a most unladylike blech, she slammed the empty mug down onto the table in victory, sending the crowd once more into cheer.

 

* * *

  
  
There was a pleasant warmness in her bones, her skin a soft, pleasurable tingle to the touch. It was a strange feeling; Kara wasn’t sure if she liked it, but she wasn’t sure if she hated it all that much either. If only the world would stop spinning for just a second for her to decide.  
  
Carefully navigating her way through the huge nets left out to dry in the open, she found an empty patch of grass to sit on. The ground was still a little wet from the rain, but she didn’t mind, not with how close she was to falling flat on her face.  
  
Lying down onto the soft grass, Kara kept her arms widespread, eyes closed for a long minute, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When she opened them again, her eyelids were like curtains, revealing a hidden sky filled with stars; clusters of them, specks of light spread through the velvet skies. It was beautiful beyond words, and lying there in that quiet little field, Kara felt like an insignificant drop of water in an ocean full of stars.  
  
She held out her hand above her, tracing across constellations she did not recognize. She noticed a few stars larger than the rest, brighter than the usual, orbited by a strange, pale moon, so close she could touch them with her fingertips. Her brows furrowed at the unusual sight, and as her eyes focused, Kara quickly realized that those stars weren’t stars, but lanterns, and the moon—was Mon-El, standing above her, with a familiar scowl on his face.  
  
She giggled.  
  
On second thoughts, Kara decided she did _like_ getting drunk on Daxamian ale after all.

 

* * *

  
  
The two of them walked to the outskirts of the village, and Kara found herself near a dark, glistening lake, the water’s surface a dazzling reflection of the shimmering stars above.  
  
The water was still, with an occasional ripple, accompanied by a faint glow from deep beneath the surface, a curious glimpse of the creatures that might exist in the darkness below.   
  
Kara was careful not to get too close to the edge, especially with how much she’d stumbled on her way over, her legs behaving no better than jelly. “You don’t have to follow me all the time, you know?” she said, not to Mon-El’s face, but his dark reflection in the lake.  
  
“I have to. Because you’re drunk,” he said as a matter-of-factly. “And there are wild animals on this island, I’d rather not find you mauled to death in the morning. That would be unfortunate.”  
  
“Yes, that would be unfortunate,” she smiled. “Because who would annoy you then, Mon-El?”  
  
“A useless hypothetical. I would never let you get mauled by a wild animal. There would be dire repercussions if the last princess of Krypton were to be found dead under my protection. I would have failed my house, my duty, and my honor. There is no worse fate than that. Not even in death.”  
  
He was as serious as usual, and in her current state, Kara couldn’t have found it more hilarious. “So… what you’re saying is that… you won’t let me get hurt?” She hiccupped. “That’s very sweet of you, Mon-El.”  
  
She could see him rolling his eyes in the water’s reflection. “Do not twist the context of my words.”  
  
She smiled. “But it’s quite straightforward isn’t it? You’re telling me you would protect me from getting hurt. There’s no room for further interpretation, it is what it is.”  
  
“It is your Kryptonian blood that--”  
  
“Kryptonian blood is what makes me… me! You want to protect the Kryptonian blood, and I am a Kryptonian, as you say, pureblood.” She chuckled. “So technically, you’re talking about… me!”  
  
He closed his eyes, as if he could no longer deal with her, and the fact that he couldn’t see her would mean that she was no longer there. After a long minute, he finally said, “Yes, that means I would never let anything happen to you. It is my duty and to fail would mean to--”  
  
“The first part is enough!” she interrupted him with a wave of her hand. She took two steps in the direction of the village before stopping and leaning on a tree for a long second. “On second thoughts… maybe… let’s not walk so fast.”

 

* * *

  
  
The lanterns illuminated their path in a soft, lambent glow; it was late in the night, but the stars were bright and the place was still alive, from the rustle of grass from the small, unseen animals darting through the woods, to the loud cheers still coming from the village’s tavern.  
  
“Are we going back to the resort tonight?” Kara asked.  
  
Mon-El shook his head. “It’s late, and the villagers offered us a place to stay for the night. We’ll return in the morning.”  
  
“That’s great,” she smiled, stumbling a little before catching her balance again. “Why are there… two of you?” she asked, eyes narrowing.  
  
He sighed. “Because you’re drunk.”  
  
“No, I’m Kara,” she said, bursting into giggles.  
  
They walked along the island’s coast, eventually coming upon a small slope which led down to the beach. Kara requested a small break, sitting down onto the grass, her arms spread out with a large yawn, before patting the space next to her, indicating for him to sit.  
  
Mon-El wasn’t interested in delaying their return to the village, but he knew that other than physically dragging Kara all the way back, he had no other choice but to wait.  
  
He sat down beside her.  
  
“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her eyes turned to the skies. “Thousands of stars in a single sky. There aren’t many planets left with such a view.”  
  
He nodded in agreement, not of her assessment of the view, but the little planets left with such a sight. “Not many left.”  
  
“What is the sky like in Daxam?”  
  
“Red,” he answered. “The rust in our atmosphere turns the skies red.”  
  
“Why don’t you get rid of the rust?”  
  
“There had been attempts, but no lasting solutions. The solar winds are the cause, but also our energy source. Blocking out the winds could filter the rust in our atmosphere, but it would also result in the loss of our greatest source of generated energy.”  
  
“That’s… sad to hear.”  
  
Perhaps it was the ale in him, but he asked, “What is the view like from Earth?”  
  
“Earth?” she repeated, not as much of a question, but more of as if she was surprised by the fact that he asked. “It depends, really. Air pollution is somewhat of a problem back on Earth. It’s something we’re trying to fix, but not something that could be done overnight by a single person. So, there are days when there’s not much to see but smog, but there are also nights, much like tonight, where the view simply takes your breath away.”  
  
“The view does not take my breath away,” he said. “Only getting punched in the chest does,--"  
  
He looked at her.  
  
Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow.  
  
She was asleep.  
  
He stared at her for a long time, as though his annoyed gaze could somehow will her back into consciousness. It did not work. The next few minutes were spent contemplating if he should wake her up for the trek back to the village or to leave her there till morning.   
  
In the end, Mon-El got up to his feet and hoisted her up onto his shoulders, before starting back in the direction of the village, his lantern swinging in the darkness with each heavy step, like a faraway star zigzagging its way across the never-ending space. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got one more thing planned for this island, actually, but unfortunately, you guys will have to wait till the next chapter :]
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter! 
> 
> as usual, if you'd like to see story-update-progresses, little snippets of next chapters, or if you'd like to talk about my stories, tv shows, or just life in general, you can find me @ shipwreckinabottle on tumblr.


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